Sleepwalker
by stress
Summary: She'd said that he had no power over her but she was wrong. Now, three years later, Sarah finds herself up against the Goblin King again. But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom. And Jareth doesn't play fair. JS
1. Part One: A dream or a nightmare?

**Disclaimer**: The characters and settings in this story are the property of Jim Henson and are only used for fan related purposes. The title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, Sleepwalker, and are used to set the tone of the story.

* * *

**Sleepwalker**

* * *

Part One: A dream or a nightmare?  
_Close your eyes  
Feel the ocean where passion lies…_

* * *

_Sarah… _

_Sarah…_

_Sarah…_

She heard the velvety voice as it came from behind her but defiantly—always _defiantly_—she refused to acknowledge it, refused to act as if she'd ever even heard it at all, no matter how often it chased her or how relentless it pursued her. Rather, she kept running forward in that recklessly yet determined way that had already gotten her so far. Her feet were bare. Sarah felt every stick, every pebble, every single blade of grass that fell underfoot but nothing would slow her down. She didn't stop. If she paused, if she hesitated for even the tiniest of seconds, the voice—whoever_ owned_ that voice—would finally get her.

And then she would be _lost_.

There seemed to be a pull against her, an invisible force that shoved her back regardless of how hard she tried to push forward. It took all the energy she had to keep moving—pure adrenaline that the irrational fear pumped through her veins kept her in motion.

She could feel the beads of sweat popping out along her furrowed brow from her exertion. Sarah spared a hand to wipe the moisture away—there was a slight chill to the nighttime air that, when it hit the blossoming perspiration, caused her to shiver despite the fiery energy and drive inside—but she just couldn't stop. Nothing short of a brick wall appearing right in front of her would keep her from going on. If she ever needed her feet to obey her, it was now. So she ran.

She could still hear the voice chasing her, following her always, following her wherever she went. It filtered into her mind, both lovely and intimidating, and even as her hands flew up to cover her ears, she couldn't outrun it.

_Sarah…_

_Sarah…_

She didn't dare turn around and look behind because she feared, more than anything else, that, _should_ she give in and turn around, there would be nothing there, that the voice was actually _part _of her. _Inside_ of her.

How could she outrun it then?

_Sarah…_

Its richness and its depth were almost intoxicating and in all the worst ways, it was _familiar_. Even as she tore across the open field, hoping against hope that she could escape the sound, she couldn't help but think that she should _know _the owner of such a sultry, seductive voice.

_And maybe_, she thought a touch frantically,_ I_ do_—_

Most emphatically, Sarah shook that thought right out of her head. She was more determined now than she had been during her entire flight. She didn't know where she was, nor did she know where she was heading to, but she felt that the end was in sight—and then she would be safe.

If only she could just keep running.

If only she could just keep ahead of that musical voice.

Out of nowhere, as if it had popped into existence for the sole purpose of tripping her, the perfect obstacle appeared: a larger than average stone, round and inconspicuous, had found its way directly in her path. She didn't see it and, mostly owed to her clumsiness and her tiredness, she stumbled over the rock. The continued speed at which she'd been running had gathered enough momentum to propel her forward and she fell, the action seemingly life flight. Sarah had just enough time to throw her hands up in front of her to break her imminent fall before the ground was there to meet her.

With a small gasp, she landed roughly on her palms before she rebounded, quickly rolling onto her side. She didn't even try to climb back to her feet then. Why should she? Solemn understanding had hit her even as she was falling.

The voice had caught up.

_Sarah…_

It was closer than ever.

_Sarah…_

It was _there_.

_Sa—_

"—rah!"

With a start, Sarah Williams opened her green eyes wide and, as if she were sleeping on a bed of pure springs, sat straight up before Karen had even finished hollering her name. Slightly out of breath, her heart racing, it took her a few seconds to recognize her surroundings. No longer lost in the outdoors, she was safe within the sanctuary of her bedroom once more.

She was home.

_It was just another dream_, she realized and, even in her thoughts, she sounded absolutely relieved. Still, there was a twinge of doubt that lingered. _But _if_ it _was_ only a dream, then why am I panting?_

As she tried a touch nervously to get her breathing under control, Sarah brought her right hand to her head. Just as she expected: her forehead was damp with sweat. Hurriedly, she wiped at the skin, eager to erase any sign of the upset another one of her dreams—her _nightmares_—had caused in her.

"Sa_rah_!"

She groaned and, struggling as she tried to climb out of the mess of blankets that tangled up her legs, she wondered just how long Karen had been calling for her_. _It was no wonder that she'd heard a voice calling to her in her dream. Despite the fact that the voice in her dreams was unmistakably male, she had read somewhere that you can have a dream that incorporated facts that were happening just before you woke up.

_Like a nagging stepmother calling you down to breakfast_, she thought to herself with a slightly mollified huff.

Her groan deepened then and, as she finally won the battle of the warm covers, it turned into a frustrated sigh. If only that was the first time she had a dream like that; if that was the case, it would be very simple to explain away the calling of her , though, that wasn't the first dream—it wasn't even the second or the third. Ever since the nightmares began a few weeks ago, Sarah had lost count of how many times she'd been eager for a good night's sleep only to find herself forever running from a hauntingly familiar voice, calling after her imploringly.

Always _calling_…

Shaking her head as if she could forget for even a moment the night terrors that seemed to constantly plague her, she pushed her blankets to the side and placed her bare feet on the carpeted bedroom floor. "I'm coming!" she called back before her stepmother, Karen, could yell for her again.

Taking her time then, Sarah reluctantly pulled the rest of her slender body out of the bed and, after stretching away the aches and stiffness of another restless sleep, she scooped up her long dark hair and tied it back in a simple ponytail. Once her vaguely damp hair was pulled back and out of her face, she glanced at the thin silver watch that she wore on her left wrist.

The clock read 8:30 and she groaned again, rolling her eyes. Didn't Karen understand the meaning behind summer vacation? She had _finally_ graduated high school in June (class of '88!) and was getting ready to head off to college when September came. She couldn't get any more grown up than that, could she? Wasn't it time for the woman to let her stepdaughter make an adult decision for once—like how late she would like to sleep in?

This time, Sarah just snorted. In the five years that Karen White-Williams had been her stepmother, the woman had never once treated her like an adult. In fact, she had the vague idea that Karen still thought of her as that gangly, imaginative thirteen year old girl she'd been when she had first met Sarah's divorced father, Richard.

Almost absently, as she let her fingers comb through the mussed hair and tangled ends of her ponytail, she let her thoughts find their way to her eighteenth birthday, back in that first week of July. It had been an entertaining enough evening—the whole family had gone out for dinner and Toby had actually been able to make it through the meal without a single spill—but the night… the night had been horrible, she remembered with a frown. She'd had the most frightening nightmare, her first in almost three years, and she had woken up screaming.

She shivered again. That had been the first of many nightmares, she knew, and—

_—and I'd be better off already if I just forgot all about them, _she told herself sternly as she pointedly let her hand fall back to her side.

The sternness was only broken when she yawned widely, about to slip her bare feet into her slippers. Her yawn ended abruptly when she glanced down; her mouth closed tightly then and her lips turned down in a prominent scowl. There was a rather bright red mark the size of a quarter at the tip of her big toe. Narrowing her eyes, she peered accusingly at the slight injury—one she was almost positive had not been there prior to falling asleep last night.

"Sarah! Your breakfast is getting cold!"

Relaxing her features at the (for once) thankful interruption from her stepmother, Sarah shook her head in utter denial. _I must have banged my foot in my sleep_, she reasoned as she put on the second slipper. Then, once the blemish was hidden from her sight, she let herself forget all about it.

That, and her dream.

* * *

"Sarah, dear, finally. I was beginning to wonder if I should send your brother upstairs after you," Karen said shortly, no hint of humor in her nasally voice, gesturing for her stepdaughter to take a seat at the table.

Sarah refrained from making a melodramatic retort as she plopped herself down in the sturdy wooden chair. There was a rather large plate of pancakes set before her. Karen thought she was way too thin, she knew, and nothing she could do could change that. It was just another one of those nitpicking things her stepmother held against her. After awhile, she got used to them—Karen meant well, after all.

Keeping to herself, she picked up her fork with her right hand; with her left, she reached out and playfully patted the blonde head of the four-year-old boy sitting next to her. "Morning, Toby," she said with a grin. He was a sticky mess, pancake syrup dribbling down his chin, but he there was no denying that he was still as cute as a button.

"Mornin', Sarah," he offered back. She wasn't sure, exactly, how he managed to answer her, his mouth full of pancakes as they were, but he looked all the more adorable for it.

Karen shook her own blonde head; not for the first time did Sarah feel like the dark outcast. It was only when her father, Richard Williams—a man with hair almost the same shade as Sarah's—was present at the table that Sarah felt like she belonged. True, her relationship with her stepmother and half-brother had improved over the years—following that one night when she was fifteen—but, at times, she just felt out of place among her family.

Suddenly, she shivered as a great chill coursed down the lengths of her spine. She dropped her fork.

Karen turned around sharply, assuming that her young son had, again, dropped a forkful of breakfast mess onto the kitchen table. When she saw that that it had been Sarah, she sighed and shook her head. She wore a faint grimace that confirmed Sarah's earlier thought. The woman obviously felt that she was closer in age to eight than eighteen.

Sarah shot her a sheepish grin as she hurriedly, fumbling, tried to pick the silverware up and off of the table and, after a few sorry attempts where it seemed like her fingers weren't working, set it on her plate. The strange sensation had passed but its effects were lingering: she felt as odd as she had when she was ripped—rather at a good moment, admittedly—from her dream. To be expected, she was no longer hungry.

Karen, it seemed, had that sixth sense awarded to all mothers that informed her whether or not her child wanted to eat. She turned on Sarah again and pointed at the full plate. "Your breakfast, Sarah," she reminded in a voice that told the girl that she would not leave the table until the plate was clear.

Sarah nodded and re-took her fork. It was no use arguing with Karen so early in the morning.

But she didn't have to eat much, as it turned out. Karen kept her sharp eye on her stepdaughter until a few forkfuls had been forced down and she was satisfied that Sarah would eat without supervision. Toby, on the other hand, had long since given up on eating the pancakes. Most of his breakfast was now a crumbled mess, squished beneath his childish fingers.

Sighing, she lifted her son out of his seat before setting him onto the kitchen floor. With a quick warning—"Tobias Richard Williams, keep those filthy and sticky hands to yourself or no Alvin & the Chipmunks!"—she led the four-year-old out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bathroom. Sarah could hear his squeals of protest—like all little boys, he _hated _bath time—all the way from the kitchen.

As soon as she knew that Karen would be occupied, she hurried from her seat, plate in hand. Using her fork, Sarah cleared the plate, dumping the rest of her breakfast into the garbage. She then placed the empty plate and her fork into the sink before silently ascending the stairs.

The bathroom door was closed. Sarah breathed out a sigh of relief as she snuck past the room and entered her sanctuary once more. Ever since school had ended and she had been spending more time around the house, readying herself for her first semester of college in the fall, Karen had been after her to gain some weight. It was getting a bit annoying, really.

Closing her bedroom door behind her with a satisfied smirk, she flipped off the slippers and let her feet sink into the soft shag of the carpet before crossing the room and settling down at her old vanity. It had long since been cleared of anything that was not essential—the pictures of her mother and her co-star turned lover, Jeremy, had been tucked away—and now held piles upon piles of books.

However, there was one, a dog-eared book with a faded red cover, that had also been hidden away. That, as well as anything else that reminded her of that night, had been boxed up shortly before her sixteenth birthday. She did not want, nor need, any reminders.

The reflection in the mirror made her nauseous; if she hadn't known for absolute fact that the girl in the mirror was her, she would've thought it was someone else entirely. She had the same facial features, yes, and the same dark hair but that was where the similarities seemed to end. The girl before her had dull green eyes that had heavy, dark grey bags underlining them; she hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. Her face was sunken in, her cheeks gaunt and her skin pale. Much of her time was spent in doors and her appetite was scarce. It was almost as if she was wasting away…

In an effort to wipe the serious expression off of the mirror-Sarah's face, she stuck her tongue out and wiggled it around. She crossed her eyes and, on a whim, she tilted her head to the side and blew a raspberry at her reflection.

_See, _she told herself, _I can still be silly Sarah Williams_. It made her feel a bit like her old, fantastical self to be making such faces. She snickered to herself, almost breaking the pose. _At least I'm alone_, she thought gratefully.

But she wasn't.

On the other side of that mirror, unbeknownst to the brunette (for, if she knew, she would most certainly not be making such ridiculous faces), a man was watching. Well, not a man but it was near impossible to describe just _what _he was. He was tall, he was beautiful, he was awe-inspiring. He had a wild mane of thick, spiky blond hair that rested feather-light on his shoulders; he had a coy smirk that offered anyone their dreams should they desire them.

His eyes, one darker than the other, were both narrowed intently on the mortal girl. There was no hint of a challenge within their depths, only indescribable want. He had almost got her that morning—just like he had plenty of other times—but then she had vanished, slipping away ever so lightly from his very grasp.

_A place between sleep and awake—_

_—end of innocence, unending masquerade— _

_—that's where I'll wait for you… _

_Sarah…_

_Sarah…_

_Sarah—_

* * *

**End Note**: I had tried my hand at a Labyrinth fan fiction before but nothing really came from it. I think it's because I actually sat down and plotted it out – and, when I do that, I normally lose interest. I'm much better at having a vague idea (including a beginning and a conclusion) and expanding on that until the two ends meet. That's what I plan on doing with this story. I hope anyone who reads this, enjoys it. And reviews. Reviews make stress a happy author :)


	2. Part Two: A decision

**Disclaimer**: The characters and settings in this story are the property of Jim Henson and are only used for fan related purposes. The title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, Sleepwalker, and are used to set the tone of the story.

* * *

**Sleepwalker**

* * *

Part Two: A decision  
_Silently the senses  
Abandon all defenses…_

* * *

It was happening again but, in her current state of mind, she didn't know that this was a repeat occurrence; she had nothing to compare this to. To the young woman, it was as if she had just found herself thrown headfirst into a strange and unique situation that only she could get herself out of. Then again, as she ran wildly, this panic reminded her vaguely of that one night three years ago and, for that similarity, she ran all the harder.

She was dressed differently this time, so differently from anything she'd ever worn that the wrongness of the wardrobe plagued her senses. The dress was poufy, a beautiful white gown that weighed her down and kept her pace from quickening. With a wide skirt and puffy sleeves, and glittering jewels sown into a pattern down the lengths of the dress, it was beautiful but just plain _wrong_. Tiny rosebuds were pinned at the throat of the dress and, when Sarah reached up to feel her hair, thin fingers discovered that roses had been woven into the curls; her naturally straight hair had been _curled_.

The scenery was different, too. She was no longer outside, running across open fields and stumbling over rocks and pebbles; rather, she thought she was lost inside a grand palace. It was baroque in design, elaborate and overdone, with countless rooms—she passed door after door after door but she never thought to reach for a knob—increasingly growing further and far between as if they were leading up to some sort of a master throne room. Then she wondered why in the world she would think of a palace, or expect a throne room. And then she hefted up the heavy skirt and tried to run faster again.

Hurrying down vast hallways, staying to the carpeted middles so that the clicking of her heeled shoes wouldn't tell anyone she was there, Sarah ran as if her life depended on it. She wasn't barefoot; though, if she would've allowed herself to slow enough to figure that such was a possibility, she would surely have stopped to remove the high buttoned shoes. But the thought never came to her and, besides, she wasn't worried. She'd been running for too long now and, in all that time, no one had emerged from any of the doors.

She was alone—except for the dreaded voice.

It still pursued her relentlessly.

_Sarah…_

_Sarah…_

_Sarah…_

_Oh, how long I've been_ waiting_ for you, my precious thing—_

Her breath quickened, her heart rate nearly doubled. Her stomach lurched at the words _precious thing_, an unwanted reminder from a time she'd just about managed to convince herself wasn't real. But the voice, that same alluring voice that had been haunting her dreams for almost five weeks, wouldn't accept the fact that Sarah no longer wanted to believe—almost as stubborn as she was, it was calling to her again. It was _always_ calling to her. And she insisted on ignoring it, like she _always_ ignored it.

As she frantically lifted her tired legs and tried to move faster than this ridiculous snail's pace, the beautiful melody of a low, whisper rolling around her head, she tried to focus on anything but the sound.

_Flowers,_ she thought desperately. _The humid dew of a brisk summer morning. Term Papers, and rough deadlines. Air Freshener. The tang of freshly-squeezed lemonade. Rainbows. Chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven. Rainy Saturdays. That two plus two is always four. Bumblebees. Dancing. Mu—_

—_sic…_

As soon as her erratic thoughts, eager to focus on anything but the phantom voice of a determined pursuer, turned to music, the voice was gone… gone as if it had never been. But that didn't mean she was surrounded by silence. She wasn't—the sultry voice had suddenly been replaced by eerily familiar chords.

She gasped and stopped, never even stumbling.

At once, Sarah longed to cover her ears with her hands, wanting nothing more than to block out the sound, but she couldn't. Her hands remained at her side, frozen.

And then the voice returned. It wasn't whispering seductively to her now, but singing instead. The words struck Sarah deep down and she paused, torn between reveling in her past and denying it. Her arms were no longer the only frozen parts of her body; she could not move her feet, stuck as they were to the carpet.

All she could do now was listen:

_How you turned my world, you precious thing—_

There it was again:_ precious thing. _ This time her stomach didn't just drop, it took up residence inside the heels of her feet.

_—you starve and near exhaust me…_

She was tired,_ so _very tired.

_Everything I've done, I've done for you—_

Sarah began to tremble.

—_I move the stars for no one…_

Her heart caught in her throat, her hands shaking at her side. This was not the first time she had heard those words, nor the last time she let them run through her head. _He _had spoken them to her… sung them to her… and, as hard as she tried to forget them, forget the whole incident of that night and pretend it was a vivid dream courtesy of a favorite book and a long night babysitting her baby brother, she couldn't. She hadn't. Well, not entirely.

_Is that who I'm running from? _Sarah bit her lip as she jerked her head, turning to glance over her shoulder. She couldn't see anyone there, but that didn't mean they weren't._ Am I… am I running from _him_?_

_You've run so long—_

She was always running.

_—you've run so far…_

His words, though doubtless it was his intent, brought back the reality of her predicament. She was trapped in an ornate castle, running down a never ending corridor, wearing a dress that did nothing but hold her back. The heeled shoes were pinching her toes and she was being seduced by a voice.

Not a man.

A _voice_.

_If it's the last thing I do, I've got to keep running_, Sarah realized and, at that realization, whatever spell that kept her limbs immobile had been broken. She began to run. And, as she did, the song faded—the voice faded. And she didn't stop again.

With the threat of being frozen again at the whim of the voice, Sarah ran even harder than she had earlier. Her feet stumbled, quite unused to the impracticality of such shoes, but she never fell. She held the bulk of her skirt up, her fingers wrapped into the rich folds of the material so tightly that the jewels bit into her skin. She ignored that pain, too.

_I'm winning, _she celebrated, her heart fluttering rapidly in giddy relief._ He really has _no _power over me_…

And that's when, out of nowhere, a large hole appeared in the middle of the hallway.

She fell into it immediately. Sarah didn't even have the chance to scream—

—_knock, knock._

Like she had the last time she was ripped from a dream, Sarah shot up straight in her bed. She did not scream, though her body was tensed and just about ready to, but she _was_ breathing heavily. The last thing she remembered was feeling the sweetness of so-close success before the very floor she was running on dropped out from beneath her feet.

She'd fallen but she had not landed. Instead, she had woken up. But not in the castle—in her bedroom.

What was going on?

"Sarah, honey?"

With a wary look in her eyes, almost hidden beneath the dark circles that shadowed them, she turned a hesitant gaze towards her closed bedroom door. "Daddy?" Her voice was almost shaking. In a sense, she was still in her dream; being awoken so suddenly from such a realistic episode seemed to have that effect on her. It was hard to tell who she was, where she was, _when _she was… not even the familiar, soothing tones of her father's voice was able to calm her yet.

"Are you all right in there? It's almost dinnertime and no one has heard from you all afternoon."

He sounded concerned which, in turn, made Sarah feel guilty; guilt overshadowed the panic, reviving her slightly. She swallowed back a bad taste in her mouth—almost like the sour taste of a rotten peach—as she succeeded in getting herself under control. Finally, when she felt more like herself, she answered, "I'm… I'm fine, Dad. Just had a little nap, that's all."

When he spoke, she could hear the obvious relief that flooded his strong voice. "Oh, that's nice, honey. I think it's a good thing that you're getting more sleep. You've been looking so tired lately."

Almost without meaning to, her hand flew to her face, gentle fingers poking the puffy pouch of skin underneath her right eye. She knew how much of a mess she looked but how could she explain that it was all because of bad dreams? She'd been lucky her father hadn't had her committed after he returned that night to hear her rambling about goblins in the bedroom and thirteen hour adventures. What would he do if he knew about the nightmares now?

Sarah hugged her pillow to her chest, almost like a shield. She refused to get up and have this conversation face to face. "I'm… I'm just worried about college, Dad. I'll get over it." The lie made her feel uneasy but if it appeased her father, it was worth it.

"I understand," Richard Williams said, and Sarah could tell that he didn't really mean it. But Sarah was a teenage girl who'd always been quite the handful, so what else could he say? "Why don't you just get some more sleep and I'll call when dinner is ready?"

Her stomach turned at the mention of dinner. There was no way she was going to be able to eat now, but there was no way she was going to do anything to worry her father any further. Another lie would have to good enough. "Okay."

She waited until she heard the sound of his footsteps heading back downstairs before she tiredly climbed out of her bed. There was also no way, following her most recent dream, that she would be able to fall back asleep. Not like she remembered falling asleep in the first place—she didn't. But, then again, she _had_ been reallytired…

All she remembered doing was sitting down on her bed, resting as she stared up at her ceiling. Her thoughts had wandered, and she was wondering what her new school would bring when she started in three weeks. The next thing she knew was fear and panic and the overwhelming desire to run.

_Running_, she thought with a scowl, her hands on her hips. _Why am I always running? _

She thought she knew the answer but she couldn't bring herself to admit it. Not yet. There were a lot of things that Sarah was afraid of acknowledging. Ignorance truly could be bliss sometimes, she felt, just like fairy tales should come with a happily ever after.

Fairy tales should come with an _ending._

Shaking her head as she sighed, Sarah found that her chocolate-colored hair was once again in its normal straight style. A little part of her had been frightened that, even though she fell asleep in jeans and a t-shirt, she would awake wearing that gown, her hair all done up in a way that made her look like she was from Jersey. There had been far too many coincidences following these dreams. That bruise on her foot from the other day was one, and a nasty cut she had gotten after bumping into a tree earlier this summer was another. As impossible as it seemed, injuries she sustained while running always seemed to be there when she woke up. The panic and worry and fear always lingered. And the nightmares didn't stop.

Her muscles taut and achy, Sarah walked over to her vanity and gingerly took a seat. For the first time in years she was not searching out her own reflection as she faced the mirror; as it was, she still didn't like what she had been viewing these past few weeks. Every day she got a bit thinner, her hair grew a bit limper, and the bags under her eyes grew a bit darker. She hadn't been eating much, or sleeping either, ever since these dreams began. It was making her _sick_.

No, she was looking beyond her reflection this time. Was there a hint of the gnarled face of a dwarf? Or a hairy, yet friendly, beast? When she was younger, directly following that night, all she had to do was stare into the mirror and they were there. But, as the years passed and she slowly began to put the whole ordeal behind her—boxing up her childhood toys and storing away all her fancies—they slowly began to disappear. She hadn't seen any of her old friends in forever.

And yet, out of nowhere, these dreams began. After the one that she just went through, Sarah suspected more strongly than ever that they had something to do with her tightly closed memories and a fantastical realm Underground. She'd had her suspicions following the first one—the voice was so damn familiar—but she hadn't been able to bring herself to accept that it could all be happening again.

Of course, that had been before the voice began to sing to her, using the same exact lines that _he _had sung to her. The longer she sat there, staring deep within the recesses of her old vanity, Sarah struggled to deny, yet ultimately had to accept the obvious truth.

He was back.

"Goddamn it," she exploded, slamming her folded fists down on the base of the vanity. "It's not fair!"

She thought she'd gotten over and grown past her experiences and now, almost three years later, they were back to haunt her. And there was nothing she could do about it. She was doomed to have nightly terrors, doomed to spend her life running away from a magical creature. A magical _king _at that.

Or was she?

Somehow, deep down, Sarah knew that it would always come to this. A part of her had always known that hewouldn't allow her to defeat his fantastical trap, his labyrinth—he wouldn't allow her to defeat _him._ How often, following that night, had she seen a plain snowy owl watching her, always _watching_ her? She knew it was him. But she also knew—at least, she _thought _she knew—that he couldn't touch her. She had won, he had no power over her… it was over.

The story had ended—or had it?

It couldn't have. Sometime, in the last three years, the rules must've changed.

How else was he able to touch her dreams? He'd given himself away with the most recent nightmare—the dress was far too similar to the one he made her wear while dancing with him in that ballroom; the song was the same he tried to lure her with then.

_Why is he _doing_ this_?

Sarah had no idea why. But she knew of one way—only one way—to find out.

Taking a deep breath, she looked into the depths of the mirror again. The sickly looking girl in the mirror seemed to nod back at her. She _had _to do this. He'd proven to her that he still had some sort of power over her, despite the claim she made at the end of her first journey in his realm_. _She was an adult now; no longer the naïve child she'd been when they met, she could not let him control her forever.

She couldn't run forever, either.

Forever wasn't long, she'd heard once, but it was long _enough._

Steadying herself, she took another breath. Maybe the lack of sleep was interfering with her mind, or weeks of fear had finally caused her to crack, but Sarah Williams made a decision. She knew of no other way to break her ties with him.

So, with a clear, strong voice, she made the following declaration:

"I wish the goblins would come and take _me _away."

* * *

**End Note**: Well, I want to thank the people who read and the people who reviewed the first chapter. I was flattered by the reception that the first chapter had so I decided to write the next chapter. I wanted to get past the initial part (with the dreams) so that I could get into the real plot. I'm sure you guys will think the end of this chapter might be a little too forthcoming but, trust me, it's alright that it came quickly - the rest of the story is going to take quite some time to unfold. All that said, enjoy!


	3. Part Three: A spell

**Disclaimer**: The characters and settings in this story are the property of Jim Henson and are only used for fan related purposes. The title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, Sleepwalker, and are used to set the tone of the story.

* * *

**Sleepwalker**

* * *

Part Three: A spell  
_A place between sleep and awake…_

* * *

_This was not the way it was supposed to happen_, he thought with dismay, pinching the bridge of his nose with leather glove-covered fingers. She wasn't supposed to take matters into her own hands. She was stubborn and noble and everything he was fixated by, but why did she have to be so damn impetuous? All Sarah had to do was give in to him and then everything would've changed. Whether for the better or not, he couldn't say, and now he never would.

_After all, I asked so little of her. I just wanted her to fear me, to love me, to obey my every whim—and I would have been her slave. I would have done anything for her, and I would still. But now—_

_Sarah…_

He waited—oh, how he had waited. From the recesses of his castle, beyond the Goblin City, he had waited.

And he had watched. Jareth, the almighty King of the Goblins, had been reduced to scrying on a mortal child. With the help of his ever present crystals, he had watched.

And he had learned.

When he first bestowed the knowledge unto Sarah—a whisper on the wind that planted the fantastical idea into her pretty, young head that the words in her old book were true—that she could, should she want, wish away her every problem and complaint to him, he did it out of fascination. He couldn't say for certain that he _loved_ the girl but he was enamored. Interested. And, dare he say, partly under a mortal's spell…

There was something about this Sarah Williams that drew his attention. At first he thought that it was because she had chanced upon that old copy of _The Labyrinth. _By the rules of his Kingdom, and the higher council he served, any mortal that came in contact with one of the _bookes_—the Ancients still referred to the tomes as 'the _bookes_' while, as he witnessed, most mortals saw the ancient texts as nothing more than a simple children's story—was brought to the attention of the Goblin King. As it was his responsibility to deal with any misunderstood and misspoken wishes, as most (if not all) wishes turned out to be, it was also he who kept track of the _olde bookes_.

Every time one of the old books—Jareth absolutely refused to refer to them with the old language; he was not near a millennium yet and saw himself as separate from the Ancients—fell into the hands of a mortal and said mortal took the time to read it, to understand it, the text reformatted itself. While staying true to the lore of the labyrinth, the book redid itself to suit the fancy of the reader. And that's why Sarah was different. Because, with the exception of her boorish expectations, she got everything else right.

From the moment that Sarah received her book—it had been a gift for her eleventh birthday—Jareth had an inkling that this girl would be different. For one, she did more than just read the book—she _learned_ it. As he watched, either with the use of a crystal or with the aid of his aviary form, she read the words, she memorized the words, she _lived_ the words. Before long, she recited the very text as easily as if it were her own history that she was speaking of, as if it was more than a children's store. Instead, Sarah treated it like a history book.

_And how true it all became, too._

It was, in fact, due to that same book—though he was certain the girl would never see it that way, and he was _wrong_—that she was able to evade him that first time. After a period of just over two mortal years, he used the minimal amount of magick he had while Aboveground to send her a message. He needed her to know that she had the power. That he was hers to command should she wish it.

Not too long after he spoke to her—if only he had spoken to her, to hear her voice, to convince her to give herself to him—she, on a selfish whim, as mortal children were wont to do, wished away her own flesh and blood. Annoyed and angry at her baby brother's unrelenting cries, she used his message—she imagined she knew the words herself—to call on the goblins and have them whisk young Jareth away. As he'd expected, she immediately regretted her rash decision; not once had she assumed that her words were a simple cry of frustration. She believed in him, in the Goblin King, and her strong belief only made her more enticing to his mind.

He didn't understand, but he was damn certain he would in the end.

He did what he could. As master of the labyrinth, he controlled it as best as he was able. There were no rules against his actions when someone was trying to beat the maze. And for Sarah, his Sarah… he wanted nothing more than for her to stay, if only to gain better insight as to what sway she held over him. He did all he could to stop her and, after all his hard work—taking the child from her, refitting the castle to her expectations, reordering time for her, _turning his world upside down_—she walked away.

She walked away from it all.

She walked away from _him_.

_You have no power over me—_

_—_just as it was written in the book.

So she left him but did she ever really leave? No, not really. Oh, she tried. The book was the first item to be tucked away. But she didn't get rid of it. She couldn't, so she placed it under her mattress. It was safe in the sanctuary of her room, should she ever need it again.

Sarah, however, was not done. Perhaps remembering his words—said so cruelly but had she not expected a cruel Goblin King?—'Sarah, go back to your room. Play with your toys and your costumes. Forget about the baby', the toys and the costumes were the next to go, followed by anything else that reminded her of her time in the labyrinth.

Reminded her of that night_._

Jareth sighed._ Silly girl._

She, he knew—for he knew her better than even she knew—was trying to forget it. Forget the labyrinth. Forget him. And she did, as well as she could, for some time.

But he didn't.

He still went about his ways as the Goblin King: attending Council meetings, taking away the babes so willingly wished upon him. But when he had the time, and even sometimes when he didn't, he paused to check in on Sarah. He learned much about the mortal ways, scrying on the girl. He never really cared for their kind before her; now he needed to know all he could to bring her back to him.

In one way, she was right. If she acknowledged that he had no power over her, then it was true. However, as he understood it, once a mortal hit their eighteenth year—he did not understand the significance of such a trifling figure but he was pushing a thousand himself; he assumed her eighteenth year was similar to his seventh century when he was considered a full grown man by his kind—they were no longer a child. When Sarah Williams turned eighteen, she became a woman. And some of the power returned.

It was not fair to harm a child. But an adult… _that_ was different.

As his laws dictated, he could not assume his true form while Aboveground unless he was summoned. That was still true. All he could do was appear before her as an owl but he knew how pointless that would be. In the years that followed her first trip Underground, he'd transformed so many times that she either disregarded the majestic bird, or ignored it entirely.

And that's when it came to him. It was old magick but well worth the effort.

All he needed were three things of Sarah's to make the spell work: the bracelet that she had given the dwarf that stood at the gate of the labyrinth (_Higgle? Hedgewart? Oh, what was the imbecile's name?_), the half-eaten peach found amidst rubble just outside of the Goblin City and the dress she had worn during their brief dance together. He took the three objects, combined them with various other ingredients—including the liquid form of the desire that had built up inside of him; it bubbled a deep red when added to the concoction—and, when the spell was complete, a new room had appeared within the walls of his castle.

Once inside that room he had the power to control her dreams. He had thought, with this new power—power she, surely, would never anticipate or expect—that Sarah would be his almost at once. It was a place between sleep and awake that he waited for her, watching. Always watching, and waiting.

There, in that room, he had the power.

But, for the second time, he underestimated her strength. No matter how softly he called for her, no matter how many obstacles he put before her to slow her down, she always ran from him. She simply refused to give in.

The dreams, he saw, were taking a toll on her. He was watching her, spying on her, almost every chance he got. He used one of his crystals to tie the spell to the mirror in her room; he was able to see her through the glass but carefully kept it enchanted so she could not find him. And again he waited.

As the days, and then weeks, passed following the initial casting of the spell, her forest-like eyes lost their shine; her hair began to hang limply until she finally resorted to pulling it out of her face daily. The weight fell off her already thin frame drastically, the effects of her resisting the magick causing her to have no appetite. She, obviously, feared the dreams for her sleep was often restless and inconsistent. Dark, heavy circles formed under her eyes.

And, yet, she did not give in.

So he refused to give in. And the dreams became a little bit rougher.

It became a battle of wills at that point, even if Sarah had no idea that she was his opponent a second time. The child—girl—_woman _wasn't allowed any help. If he was going to make her his, he would do what it took. So the dreams became nightmares, the nightmares trying and nearly brutal. More than once she woke up with an injury she had sustained while running from him; more than once she awoke with a scream on her lips.

But no matter how much pain her trivial injuries caused her, his pain, Jareth's pain, was much worse. _Why must she run? _He called to her, whispering her name over and over again and, every time he spoke, she used the sound as fuel to further get away.

It took all his courage—_Strange thought, isn't it, that the Goblin King should fear a mere babe?—_to make his presence known in the last dream. Rather than let her appear in the dream world, that place between sleep and awake, as a mere sleepwalker, wearing the same clothes she dreamt in, he used a duplicate of that first spell that dressed her for his Masquerade.

He clothed her in an expensive gown, diamonds sewn into the very design, that, one day, he planned to use as her wedding dress. It suited her nicely; the pink roses pinned at her throat and weaved into her head of dark curls were a nice addition to the design. He set her on a path much different from the one's she was used to, hoping the new surroundings would disorient his dreamer. With a satisfied smile, he invited her into the castle as it normally stood without any illusion draped upon it to meet the expectations of those unable to see the true glamour of the Underground.

And though he hoped she would, she didn't see it as such and, really, he didn't blame her. But, then again, he hadn't expended such energy for her to see it as a nightmare, nothing more. He began to sing, sing a sweet melody that should have brought the memories rushing back to her.

At once, he knew everything—all the time, energy and desire—was well worth it. As soon as he began the song, she froze. She stopped of her own free will. None of his magick was working against her.

Only his voice.

But he had forgotten that the song he chose—the same song he had tried to seduce her with during their first encounter—mentioned running. As soon as that verse was out, whatever control he had over the girl had had been lost. She ran again. And he ached for it.

Jareth had thought the magick used on that dream to be wasted. He left the dream room and returned to his throne, absently stepping over the goblins that from time to time when there was no child to watch over visited the castle in favor of some request or another. And that's when the pull came.

Someone was calling for him and his heart, cold as ice and just as strong, gave a little tug at a frightful realization. _It can't be_, he thought. He conjured up a crystal at once, desperate to waylay his sudden suspicions.

And there she was, sitting before her vanity, looking as stubborn as ever.

As beautiful as ever.

"I wish the goblins would come and take _me _away."

_Oh, Sarah. _Already the magick was working against him. _This is not the way it was supposed to happen…_

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**End Note**: Ooh, I forgot how bad cliffhangers can be sometime. I always try to leave a chapter off where I think it makes sense for the next chapter and, because of that habit, it seems like I'm leaving you all hanging – and I guess I am. Well, I think I did that to you all again. But, hey – updates every other day make up for it, eh? Don't get used to it, though. New semester starts on Tuesday and I still have a ton of Newsies stories to catch up on. I'm just so in love with this story (and the awesome feedback you guys are leaving in the reviews) that I can't help but work on this.


	4. Part Four: A proposition

**Disclaimer**: The characters and settings in this story are the property of Jim Henson and are only used for fan related purposes. The title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, Sleepwalker, and are used to set the tone of the story.

* * *

**Sleepwalker**

* * *

Part Four: A proposition  
_End of innocence, unending masquerade…_

* * *

At first, Sarah wasn't all that confident that her impulsive wish had been granted—or even, for that matter, _overheard_. And, if it was, was it possible to wish one's self away? Or would _he _consider it cheating?

_Not that he's above cheating_, she recalled, snorting to herself as she gazed back stubbornly in the vanity's streaky mirror. _I haven't had a peach since la—_

_—wait. What was that?_

There was a noise, a quick snapping sound and a barely stifled giggle. A loud hushing hiss followed that, then more short laughs, twitters and snickers came from behind her and then… _nothing_. If she strained her suddenly sensitive hearing, she could make out the sounds of her family going about their daily lives, entirely oblivious to the hasty wish that Sarah had just made.

But it couldn't be a foolish wish, could it? Not when she wasn't alone in her room any longer.

Her heart began to beat double time, thumping against the walls of her chest, but she refused to turn around. She refused to acknowledge the presence that invaded her sanctuary. She was far too busy thinking: _The goblins, they're here. But where is he? Where is their king? Jareth…_

A strange feeling washed over just then and she had to work hard to bite back a scream. She settled on gasping out loud, breathing heavily next when the sensation that she was being ripped apart didn't pass. An odd pull was calling on her body; it seemed as if some force was trying to carry her away while gravity kept her in place. Her head felt as if the pressure was building to the point that she wouldn't be surprised if her brains leaked out through her nose and then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.

Panting again, Sarah raised her hand and soothingly rubbed her temples. _I see, _she told herself, struggling to get her breathing back under control._ It's a matter of 'who does the labyrinth call for'? Does it take me away to the castle beyond the Goblin City? Or does it let me remain to face off against the Goblin King? _A wry, satisfied smile spread out across her face. On nothing more than a whim she had made the pronouncement without thinking it through at all. What, now, would happen?

As long as that pain stayed far, far away, Sarah was quite certain she could handle _anything _that would happen next…

She remained at the vanity, stubbornly refusing to turn around and search out the cretins and scoundrels that were presently occupying her room. Through the reflective glass, she saw one scamper under her bed; another had ducked inside her closet. She continued to grin to herself as she waited. _Where is he?_

It was mid-afternoon, closer to early evening, but her room seemed to dim at the mere thought of the Goblin King. Before she could react to the sudden loss of light, there was a tap at the window. A frantic, insistent tapping that caught her attention and directed her gaze at the window—

—the owl was there, knocking at the glass.

The Goblin King had come.

She slowly turned her head away from him, choosing to keep her eyes on herself—but the Sarah in the mirror wanted nothing more than to confront the King. Nevertheless, she waited. He was already playing with her, acting as if he was asking her permission to enter when they both knew full well that, by invoking him, she invited him into her home.

There was a final tap before the window gave with a whoosh of magick-filled air. It popped inward—just as it had on that fateful night—and the owl soared in; however, unlike that time before, he glided gently into the room rather than being propelled onward by a gust of wind and glitter. Once he had touched down on the lush carpet, his form began to shimmer before he began to morph into the form she knew all too well. The glitter came, too, a small shower of sparkle that appeared in her room when he did, floating gently behind him as the king began to change.

Sarah watched him safely through the confines of the mirror. Her eyes never shuttered as he transformed. When she was younger, she had lifted her hands in defense and had missed the change and she'd always kind of regretted not witnessing it firsthand. It was amazing, she begrudgingly admitted as she watched, absolutely fascinating as the white feathers of the bird formed into blond hair, the sharp beak formed into a perfectly sculpted nose…

She couldn't help but gulp when he straightened, once again back in his own skin. She had forgotten just how awe-inspiring he was.

The Goblin King was taller than ever and, though she had grown a bit herself since she was fifteen, she felt diminutive compared to him. His hair, that wild blond mane, was effortlessly styled, framing his thin face, drawing attention to his differently colored eyes. His lips were pulled into a smirk that, if she'd been confronted with it head-on rather than through the reflection of the vanity's glass, would have caused her blood to pulse franticly in her veins. The point of his canines hung just a touch dangerously over the edge of his lip and Sarah was beginning to wonder if maybe her wish had been just a little too hasty.

Just like the last time she had seen him, he wore clothes that suited his lithe frame perfectly: a low-cut shirt with billowing sleeves, a tight vest keeping the blouse in place, tight grey breeches, matching leather gloves and boots. On anyone else, such attire would be laughable. But on him? Though she would never tell him otherwise, Sarah knew she wouldn't have him any other way.

She focused on his appearance for a beat too long and, when she realized that she was basically_ ogling the Goblin King_, Sarah blushed. Here she was, trying to find a way to rid her from life and she was watching him with as much attention as a schoolgirl with a crush. She refused to turn around just yet, if only because she would rather take a dip in his dreaded Bog of Eternal Stench than let him see the stain in her wan cheeks.

He stood directly behind her, watching as her intensely as she watched him. When he spied the pink dusting of her cheeks in the mirror, his lips curled into a wicked grin. Jareth didn't need any spells or magick to know what the girl was thinking. Maybe, he thought, it had been better to wile away the time while she matured in order to confront this young woman now.

It was quite the moment for the pair. She, with her back to the one being she feared (adored?); he, within reaching distance of the one he desired (wanted to defeat?). Neither moved, neither spoke. They just remained frozen, as if time had stopped.

Then, from beneath the bed, another giggle broke the heavy silence: it was a goblin, and an obviously excitable one at that. With that sound, both of the room's occupants suddenly remembered what they were there for.

Why Jareth had come.

"Sarah."

At last, she turned to face him. She'd been wondering if he would remember—what would she have done if he hadn't?—but, beyond anything else, she wanted to hear his voice again. When he spoke, her risk, so far, had been vindicated.

He _was _the voice. The very voice that had haunted her dreams, haunted her nightmares, for weeks. Just as she had thought, it was he, the Goblin King.

She _knew_ it.

Sarah shook herself slightly, steeling herself for what would happen next, before slowly rising up from the vanity. He still loomed over her and she tried not to be intimidated—or, at least, let him see that she was just the teensiest bit intimidated. Instead, she tilted her chin slightly upwards so as to give off an air of confidence. Stubbornness was second nature by now. "You came."

"Why, yes," he said drolly, only the tiniest hint of his grin lingering around his thin lips. "Someone called upon my subjects… upon me. As you know, I am bound to come when called."

Her chin wavered. He sounded so cold, so emotionless as he spoke. He didn't seem concerned that she was the one who made such a risky wish—or was this just another one of his games? She refused to let him get to her so early. "I did it," she confessed recklessly. If he wanted to play that way, it was fine by her. "I called you. I made the wish."

He bowed his head in her direction, momentarily losing his stature. But when he spoke, he sounded as disinterested as ever. "Shall we go through the witty banter and faithless promises that I offer to all that I steal from? Or, as we are more experienced in these manners, shall we get straight to the terms?" He lifted his head slightly, the darker of his eyes twinkling like mad. His right hand was raised and with an almost inaudible _pop_, he gripped a crystal loosely with his fingertips. "I'm sure I still have a dream or two I can offer you, Sarah."

"No," she replied, the clarity of her voice surprising even her, "I think I've had enough of your dreams."

She heard an outbreak of twitters and whispers coming from the goblins and knew that they hadn't expected such boldness from the girl. _I thought they would have learned not to underestimate me. I've beaten the labyrinth once before to save my brother. This time I'll beat it to save myself. _She waved her hand outwardly, not touching the crystal but close enough that he pulled it back. With a second _pop_, it was gone. "Goblin King, I—"

"Jareth."

Sarah paused. She had her speech planned; she knew what terms she would demand. However, his interruption surprised her. "I'm sorry?"

"Jareth. My name is Jareth. 'Goblin King' is just my title."

_I know that_, she thought as her blush returned._ I was just trying to be respectful_. She could feel the warmth in her face and wished that she had waited until it was darker to invoke the man. Then again, if she _had_ waited, she doubted she would have ever done it. "Jareth," she amended, feeling awkward addressing him in such a manner; she had never called him by his first name before and the strange name sounded foreign in her voice. "I have wished myself away to your Underground."

His playful smile returned. Without one of his crystals to occupy his hands, he was now standing before her, legs spread, arms crossed over his pale chest. His billowing shirt was cut low, a v-shape directing her eyes lower—before she could blush again, Sarah reverted her eyes, trying her best not to look any lower; instead she settled on watching the long fingers that stretched his gloves, the darkness of the leather a fitting contradiction to his white skin. He was more intimidating now than he had been before, and, dare she think it, _attractive_.

Sarah gulped and, just like that, all the words flew out of her head. When she made her wish, she hadn't expected it to be this hard facing him. "I… I wished myself away…"

"But?" The Goblin King was experienced enough in these matters—and, by now, he knew Sarah well enough—to expect a "but".

He was right.

His question prompted her memory. "_But_ I want another chance at the labyrinth first."

He let her statement hang in the air for a moment before replying. One of his strangely shaped eyebrows quirked, though it was almost hard to tell. "The law says that, should a child get wished away, the one doing the wishing has the chance to recover the babe by running the labyrinth. Given that you have wished yourself away, it seems fair that you should get the chance to save yourself. But why go through so much trouble? If you win, you return Aboveground, without anything to show for it." He paused again and tutted at Sarah. "Unless there _is_ something you want in return?"

Sarah began to feel indignant at his words. It had seemed like a good plan to her when she called out to him but, now, it seemed such a childish thing to do. The very way he spoke to her reminded her how Karen treated her—and how much she hated being belittled. In fact, she was so preoccupied by the condescending tone that Jareth had adopted that she actually glossed over his used of the word 'fair'. She should have known to be wary when the Goblin King decided what was 'fair'—it never was except for in his case.

But she didn't notice the word or the way his grin, if possible, turned even wickeder. Scowling slightly, she mimicked his stance, her arms crossed over her chest. She reached up on her toes, trying to close the substantial gap in height between the pair. "Of course," she tossed back, defiantly. "If you win, I remain in the Underground. You want to make me a goblin, fine. But, if I win…"

"Yes?" He was still grinning at her; however, the grin was nothing more than a façade. Her words stung, though he would never admit it. Not in front of his subjects. _Does she think that I would transform such beauty into a goblin? A miniature fairy maybe, or a beautiful flower, but not a _goblin_. Though I'd much prefer her to stay as she is…_

Sarah, however, was not privy to his thoughts and, as such, her scowl deepened. She was trying to be responsible, trying to make a deal with him and he treated her as nothing more than a silly child who was wasting his time. She shook her head. "_When_ I win, I want to forget everything. Forget you, the labyrinth, _everything_. I want to forget the Underground."

If not for the centuries of training he had, keeping his face straight—attending Council meetings tested the abilities of all those involved, whether staying awake during frivolous talks or remaining stoic during ridiculous topics—Jareth would have surprised her. His heart almost skipped a beat. This was unlike anything he had expected when he realized that it was Sarah who called for him.

_She wants to play… for her memories? Either I win, and she belongs to me, or she wins, and I lose her forever. _

Of course, there was no way she could win. The moment she set foot into the Underground he would have her… but this wasn't how it was supposed to happen. The magick he painstakingly set would have to be twisted and transformed, spun inside out until his castle was the destination and the starting point.

Still, there was no choice for him. He had invested too much thought, too much time, too much energy into Sarah Williams to ever let her get away from him again. Not when he was the dreamweaver and she just the unsuspecting sleepwalker.

After a moment that seemed to last forever, he nodded. "You'll have thirteen hours. Is that _fair_, Sarah?"

She set her jaw, trying to look more confident than she felt. She hadn't missed the word this time and his use of it rattled her. But, after years of wondering just how that one nighthad been possible—_at least I know I definitely did not imagine it… unless I'm having some sort of relapse now…—_and weeks of terrorizing nightmares, Sarah was willing to do anything to become normal. Maybe, then, when she went away to college in a few weeks, she would finally be accepted. She would finally be free.

_I have to win._

She knew he was waiting for her answer; the way he hesitated to whisk them all to the Underground made her feel as if he was offering her the chance to change her mind. Sarah scoffed loudly. _I _will _win. _ "Thirteen hours, _Jareth_? I'll do it in ten."

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**End Note**: So, that was the next chapter. I want to reiterate how much I really appreciate the reviews you guys are leaving for this story. It really puts me in the mood to sit down and work on this when I see what the people who are reading this think about the story. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.


	5. Part Five: A sense of déjà vu

**Disclaimer**: The characters and settings in this story are the property of Jim Henson and are only used for fan related purposes. The title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, Sleepwalker, and are used to set the tone of the story.

* * *

**Sleepwalker**

* * *

Part Five: A sense of déjà vu  
_That's where I'll wait for you…_

* * *

Jareth bowed his head but whether it was to hide his amused grin or show acceptance of her terms, Sarah couldn't tell. It was quiet then, with only an odd sniffling sound coming from one of the goblins that remained hidden in her bedroom. The window, still open from Jareth's impressive entry, let in an unnatural wind as they faced off, a wind that sent her long, brown ponytail whirring about her back, slapping the side of her neck, even managing to get itself stuck to her lip and inside her mouth.

His hair didn't so much as wave. The Goblin King seemed entirely unconcerned with the cool breeze.

Sarah only had a few precious seconds to marvel on the briskness of the wind— it was still early afternoon on a late July day and, by all accounts, should still be warm—and the chill on the air was enough to bring about certain doubts to the girl. _Maybe, _she thought, pulling wet strands of hair from a suddenly dry mouth,_ I shouldn't…_

She never finished her thought. One particularly strong gust of wind of wind erupted into the room and, with a wash of glitter—_Is this glitter? It is_, she realized, as she gasped in surprise, almost swallowing a mouthful of the sparkling dust—she was caught up in the ferocious gusts. Sarah could feel the weight of his mismatched eyes on her and she defiantly turned her head away.

However, when she turned she turned straight into one clouded eddy of dust, the glitter sparkling before her very eyes. She couldn't help it then. She closed her eyes, protecting them from the sting of the glitter.

The wind stopped at once. From right behind her, there was a laugh, low and heavy and _seductive_. Sarah didn't need to open her eyes again to know that Jareth was standing there now. She would've known that laugh anywhere, the laugh and its damned ability to make her knees waver.

Still, she wasn't about to stand there (stand there, or fall), blind and defenseless with the Goblin King lurking at her back. Cautiously, she lifted one of her eyelids and felt a pout form on her lips. _It was just a distraction_, she thought, almost bitterly. _He's just playing his games with me. _She scowled and groaned and raised her head. As she should've known, should've been prepared for, she was now standing at the outset of the labyrinth—_Jareth's labyrinth. I have to remember that this time. I can't take anything for granted._

It appeared to her almost exactly as it had three years ago and she didn't know why she was surprised; for some reason, she felt as if her memories were a farce, that there was so much more to it than there really was. Just like it had then, it looked to be carved out of rock but this labyrinth seemed to inexplicably shine in the light, glinting as a ray of sunshine bounced off of the polished surface. The labyrinth stretched far beyond what her imagination allowed—and, considering she had run the maze before, that was quite the feat.

She was standing on the same hill that she and Jareth had arrived on at the start of her first run. This time, though, the grass was plush and green, and the first niggling _wrong_ thing hit her as she felt the slick blades under her sneakers. It was a familiar sensation and she thought she knew it from more recently than way back then. _Was this where I was running in my dream? _She had remembered the Underground as a dry and dusty place. This was unlike her memories and it bothered her in a way she couldn't quite describe. She felt her confidence slowly begin to ebb away. _What did I do?_

Sarah took a step forward but before she could follow that step with another, she stopped short, something drawing her attention backwards. Jareth was still behind her. She got a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her, waiting for her to begin her journey, his arms on his hips now, his index and middle fingers pointing dangerously downward—Sarah jerked her head back up, pointedly ignoring the heat flaming up the sides of her cheeks.

She involuntarily shuddered under his heavy, unblinking gaze. She never knew to what extent he had watched her during her first journey through his cruel maze. The idea, one she thought about, wondered and maybe even fantasized over whenever she gave in and remembered that night as a memory rather than a hallucination, both frightened and excited her. Just to think that a man—or _being_—such as the Goblin King would be interested in watching her was enough to set her stomach a flutter.

_I hate him_, she told herself sternly, using a temporary surge of anger to raise her eyes to his. _He tried to steal Toby from me, tried to trick me into losing. And to top it all off, now he's back, invading my dreams, his voice always in my head. I _have _to hate him. He can't affect me. I must get past him. _Her hands were curling up tightly, her fingernails biting into the fleshy part of her palm. _I will win._

As she glared at him, waiting for Jareth to blink, to move, to do _anything _other than look at her intensely with a predator's stare, Sarah tried to rid her mind of any feelings for the man before her. He had used a childish infatuation then—he had, at the time, reminded her of her mother's forbidden lover; now, older, she saw a different man but no less enticing to her—to try to defeat her the first time. He would not succeed again. She would prove that she was now beyond such trickery.

It didn't matter what she thought, whether she was intrigued by the mystical Goblin King or whether she loathed him for what he did to her childhood. She _had _to defeat him. She was too afraid that, if she didn't now, she would never be rid of him. He would haunt her, be forever lurking in the back of her mind, be forever lurking _within her_, if she didn't confront him now.

If she didn't defeat him for the second and final time.

She had assumed that after returning Aboveground, her hard-won baby brother back home with her, that it was over. That, within time, the great adventure would be remembered as nothing more than an elaborate dream. She tried to force the memories from her mind; after all, the whole experience seemed a call for her to finally grow up. So she hid the faded book that told of the labyrinth, boxed up all of her toys and costumes and tucked them away. As time passed, she felt confident that it was over. The Underground was where it belonged, right beneath her feet, far away from her.

Until her eighteenth birthday and the beginning of the nightmares. They had started out simply enough. She was alone and someone was talking to her, singing to her, calling to her—always to her—but as long as she pushed the voice away, she was safe. But as the days went by, the dreams became more persistent. Soon enough she was placed in unfamiliar settings, running from an insistent caller, running, battling, always fleeing. In the back of her mind she recognized the sweet yet husky voice but she refused to let that knowledge make itself known as she tried relentlessly to escape.

Maybe she should have sooner than she did. She might've thought it all through further rather than make a whimsy wish that wagered her life over her memories.

In a way, Sarah had known that it wasn't over—not really. Maybe that was why she had tried so hard to forget it all.

Ever since he had offered Sarah her dreams, offered himself up to her in return only for her obedience, she had known that there was some sort of tie being forged between them. A link between the Underground and Aboveground, in a sense; a link between a fifteen year old mortal girl and the ageless King that found her… what? Interesting? A mere plaything? Or, could it be, something _more_?

_Nothing more_…

There had been a glimmer of that something _more_ the last time they met, nearly three years ago. What had been just a hint, she could see as she faced him, had grown even grander. The danger lurking, the promises, the wishes, the _dreams… _everything she had every wanted, everything a crystal could contain—he held it out for her, hers to take. If only she would ask—

Sarah gulped. Her resolve wavered. _Why am I doing this? _She blinked.

In the split second it took her eyelids to shutter and open again, the hungry look in Jareth's mismatched eyes had disappeared. Once again, like the man she had known when they first met, he was cold and guarded. His lips were twisted in a cruel grin as he waved one of his gloved hands.

A clock appeared, hovering just to his left, just behind the girl. It was even more elaborate than the one she remembered. The design, however, was not the only difference between the dark clock that stood behind her and the one she had seen before: this clock had only ten numbers on the face, with the ten o'clock numeral at the top of the circle and the five at the bottom. Each of the other eight digits was spread equally around the face. It looked quite odd, with two of the digits missing from a standard clock, but nowhere near as queer as the thirteen hour timepiece he created for her last time.

_Is he re-ordering time again? _she wondered. _ For me?_

"Sarah," he said, interrupting the silence—and her whirring thoughts—with a voice akin to a purr. "You have ten hours to solve the labyrinth, as per your challenge," he added and Sarah wanted to kick herself. He had upset her by speaking to her kindly—as odd as that sounds—and, before she could stop herself, she had told him that she could beat his labyrinth in ten hours, three hours less than what he had offered her.

_I'm an idiot, _she chided herself,_ but it was his fault. How does he always manage to get me to stick my foot in my mouth like that?_

She forced her features into an expression that resembled the confidence that she no longer felt. "Piece of cake," she tossed back. The choice of words was deliberate—he had grown so cross the last time she used them.

And just as she had expected, his handsome face darkened at her flippant attitude. But it darkened for only an instant before he laughed again. "Ten hours, Sarah," he replied, his voice fading.

It wasn't only his voice that was fading, either. As she remained glued to the spot, watching _him _now, he faded from her sight, bringing his fantastical clock with him. It rang a total of eleven times, a pointed nod that her allotted time had begun. And so should she.

Sarah had a strange sense of déjà vu as she turned around and, after wiping her sweaty (and sore) palms against her denim blue jeans, began to head towards the entrance to the labyrinth. It seemed to be further than she imagined. Right away, her thoughts—her traitorous thoughts—turned to the Goblin King. Was it against the rules for him to keep pushing the maze away so that she never even entered it? For, she figured, if she couldn't even get to the labyrinth, how in the world was she expected to solve it and reach the castle that stood in the center?

In the few minutes that she had been walking forward, Sarah had been able to convince herself (rightly so) that Jareth would do nothing short of standing in front of the gates to his City himself to keep her from reaching the castle; it was a matter of pride, both hers and his. Mumbling curses under her breath while trying to keep her temper in check—it wouldn't do her any good to lose it so early on in her ten hours; her temper and big mouth had already lost her three hours as it was—Sarah continued to walk.

To her surprise, the labyrinth seemed to grow closer then. Whatever she had done to get it to stay in place had worked. She would, at the very least, be able to try her luck inside the rocky structure. _That is, if I can find someone to show me the entrance…_

The last (and first) time Sarah had been Underground, there had been a dwarf at the gate. Would it be the same this time? She didn't see anyone directly in front of her nor to the right side of the maze. She turned her head eagerly to her left and let out a sigh of relief. Just beyond the small lake—crystal blue this time rather than a groggy mess full of things Sarah preferred not to remember—there stood someone. A very short someone.

_Could it be?_

Knowing she had a long journey in front of her, Sarah did not want to start out using all of her energy but, when she saw the person (dwarf?) patrolling alongside the front of the labyrinth, she put on a burst of speed and ran toward them. They were walking away from her and all she could see was their back. However, the slight limp and frizzed hair sticking out seemed familiar and she couldn't help but blurting out a name:

"_Hoggle_?"

* * *

**End Note**: And that was the newest chapter! I was so very flattered by the amount of reviews that the last chapter got – 11 for one chapter! Woot! I do want to say, real quick, that this will not be a repeat of what happened to Sarah in the first movie. Not only does Jareth have an even bigger reason to cheat and cause her to lose, but the labyrinth is huge! There has got to be so many other mythological elements that are hidden within its depths that I can explore. Still, you can't begrudge a struggling writer the opportunity to throw in some references, right?

I also wanted to say thank you for the reviews of the last chapter to: **Winterflower**,** notwritten**,** Maeko-Nohara** (Biddy!), **White Rose Withering**, **AngelicOne**, **P'tfami**,** EyesWideShut41**, **Myst4drgn**, **Artemisdesari**, **Kute Anime Kitty** and **Songstressgirl07**.


	6. Part Six: A case of mistaken identity

**Disclaimer**: The characters and settings in this story are the property of Jim Henson and are only used for fan related purposes. The title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, Sleepwalker, and are used to set the tone of the story.

* * *

**Sleepwalker**

* * *

Part Six: A case of mistaken identity  
_Hold me near you  
So closely, sear you…_

* * *

At the sound of her voice, the dwarf spun around and glared up at her, his short, stubby hands perched annoyingly on his rather thick waist. And Sarah recognized straight away that _this _dwarf certainly wasn't the friend she'd made during her first run of the labyrinth.

There were quite a few similarities; it was no surprise Sarah made the mistake she did, assuming this white-haired, brown-skinned dwarf with a limp was the white-haired, brown-skinned dwarf named Hoggle that she knew. But most of the similarities vanished when he spun around. While Hoggle was, and he'd be the first to admit it, a coward who put up a rough front to cover for his fears—Jareth, the cleaners, the Bog of Stench—this new dwarf had the gnarled and grizzled appearance of someone who looked his fears in the eyes and maybe even thumbed his nose at them. He was looking up at her, obviously annoyed by her, his long bumpy nose—so very unlike Hoggle's bulbous one—stuck up in the air. His lips were twisted in what could only be described as a snarl. His eyes— _his eyes…_

_Is it just my imagination, _she wondered suddenly as her heart sped up a little faster,_ or do his eyes look… odd? _Ignoring the way he glowered up at her, Sarah bent her knees slightly and narrowed her eyes in order to get a better look at the dwarf's. It was hard to tell with the sunlight causing a bit of a glare, but it looked as if his eyes were two distinct colors: one a bright blue, the other… _hazel? _

She squinted at him, hoping for a better look. From one angle, his eyes were almost the same dark blue that Hoggle's had been. But, from another, there was no denying that there was a distinct difference between the two eyes.

The dwarf cleared his throat, a rough sound of spit and a gargle, and sneered, "Say, what _you_ starin' at, missy?"

Sarah blinked and straightened, feeling a little embarrassed for being caught but more than stubborn enough not to admit it. As funny as it seemed, she'd actually forgotten for a moment that the eyes she was studying so intently actually belonged to someone. So she blinked and this time, when she glanced at his eyes again, they were entirely blue.

_I think Jareth is already getting into my head, _she thought, unsure if she was angry at him or herself for what she's seen_. He's been gone for maybe five minutes and already I'm seeing dwarfs with mismatched eyes just like his._

She gave her head a clearing shake and looked apologetically down on the dwarf. "I'm sorry. I thought you were—"

He interrupted her with a snort. "Hoggle? That incompetent fool? That idiot? Ha! Not likely. _His_ shift ended at dawn."

"His… shift?"

"Oh, ho, ho, yeah! Got the late shift patrol on account of him turnin' traitor with this one mortal." The dwarf leaned in slightly, his head barely coming up to her navel. "If ya ask me, I still thinks he should've been dipped headfirst into the bog, but the king let him go." He stepped back and gave himself an honest pat to the chest. "Good man, he is, King Jareth."

Sarah found herself unable to echo the dwarf's proud sentiments. It had never occurred to her before that the friends she made—Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Didymus—might've been punished for helping her. When she spoke to them, long before she stopped looking for them, they never made mention of the king's reaction; she never thought to ask. And another thing… was there really more than one dwarf who stood on the outside of the labyrinth's gates, waiting to lead poor, unfortunate mortals the wrong way?

She had to admit it made sense. How else would they get any sleep?

_Did_ creatures from the Underground have to sleep?

Forgetting all that, Sarah turned her attention to the first obstacle—because a dwarf that cranky was definitely an obstacle—in her way of beating the labyrinth. "Well," she said, trying to sound cheerful in response to his surliness and only succeeding in sounding as if she sucked in a lungful of helium, "if you're not Hoggle, who are you?"

"The better question, girlie, is _who_ are _you_? You know who Hoggle is, but you're as mortal as they come. C'mon, tell me: who the devil are you?"

She could almost kick herself. Immediately regretting mentioning Hoggle, Sarah wondered how to get around the question. The last thing she wanted to do was let anyone she met in the Underground know that she'd been there before. For all they knew, she was just another runner, another challenger. How much help would she get if they knew she'd beaten their king at his own game once before?

The dwarf was still staring at her intently, waiting for her answer. Sarah shrugged, then set her shoulders determinedly, daring him to question her again. "Never mind that," she said, adopting her normal speaking voice again. If he didn't want to be friendly, then she wasn't going to be either. "I just need to start getting through labyrinth. Do you know—" She stopped for a second, realizing what it was she'd almost done. Subconsciously, Sarah had almost fallen into the same trap that she had the first time around.

_I can't take anything for granted_, she told herself.

"What's the matter there, girlie?" It was hard to tell with his weathered, old features, but Sarah was pretty sure he was grinning knowingly up at her. "Goblin got your tongue?"

She rolled her eyes at him. If she didn't know any better, she would think he was trying to stall her.

_Wait. _

_I _do _know better—that's _exactly _what he's doing. But at least I'm not gonna fall for it. _

"Listen," she told him, using the no-nonsense voice she used on Toby when he wanted dessert before his dinner, "I only have a few hours to solve this and get out of here. How do I get into the labyrinth?"

Begrudgingly, the dwarf began to limp towards her. He kept going until he had passed her. Sarah turned around and watched as he, just as Hoggle had done, extended his left hand towards the rocky labyrinth. As he did so, a gate appeared within the face of the maze, slowly swinging outward until an opening for Sarah would exist. "You gets in… there," the gatekeeper grumbled, forming his stubby fingers into a fist, his pointer finger gesturing to the hole that had appeared seemingly magically right in front of them.

As the gate moved, she was surprised to see how different the labyrinth already appeared. When she first arrived Underground, she had noticed the different texture of the rocks; rather than looking crumbly and harsh, it seemed polished and smooth. She'd assumed it was a trick of the distance and, when she got close enough to really look at it, she hadn't paid it any attention—she'd been too preoccupied with the dwarf she had mistaken for Hoggle. But now…

The gate hadn't been there earlier, but Sarah knew better. She'd learned from her earlier time in this damn enchanted maze that the labyrinth itself would never help you—you had to do everything on your own. So instead of being astonished by the gate's sudden appearance within the formerly whole rocky wall, she simply waited for the gate to allow her entry.

The gate was playing to a different audience; it didn't open with an ominous creak like she expected it to, and it wasn't made of iron, either. It was smaller than she remembered and, as it moved, the crystalline structure caught the sun's rays. It was gorgeous and in another place, another time, Sarah thought she might have appreciated its beauty. But not now—not when she was, basically, fighting for her life. Rather, she thought only of the strange way things had changed in the three years since she had been in the Underground.

_Why is everything so different?_ she asked herself._ And it's not like it's all the way different—it's still similar enough to what I remember. A clean lake instead of a polluted pond? A Hoggle look-alike with an opposite personality who spoke the same lines? A glittering gate? Is this the work of the Goblin King? Or something else? The labyrinth, perhaps?_

There were too many questions and not enough answers.

Sarah didn't like that at all.

She set her jaw, determined again, and anxious. Once the gate opened with a gap just wide enough for a girl as slender as Sarah to slip through, she strode purposely forward, ignoring the questioning gaze of the dwarf. He seemed surprised that she was intending to go inside without asking for his help. In all his experience at walking the gate—which, granted, was not a lot—he had never had a mortal set off without more than a couple of questions. This one, though… she'd only needed one quick clue and, would you believe it, it was the exact wording to get the gate to open. He followed after her.

Sarah stepped inside the labyrinth, paused and looked around. Despite the subtle differences, she felt inexplicably at home. The comforting sensation unnerved her. No matter what minor (or major) differences the labyrinth had undertaken, whether they were deliberate or coincidentally made, the labyrinth was still the _labyrinth_. It was every inch as foreboding as the one she had encountered when she was fifteen.

A little bit of the teenager she had been perked up at that moment. _It's not fair_, she thought. _I shouldn't have to be wagering my memories and my sanity against my freedom. But life isn't fair_, the more mature Sarah rebutted._ Jareth, damn you, you're the one who taught me that._

An image of a smirking and condescending Goblin King formed in her head and Sarah felt her resolve strengthen as any regrets and never-should-have's disappeared. _I have about nine and a half hours left_, she figured_. I can do this. I didn't need thirteen last time, he stole more than enough and—_

"Cozy, ain't it?"

She almost jumped at the dwarf's unwelcome interruption of her thoughts. She hadn't known that the dwarf had followed her into the labyrinth and that spooked her. And that wasn't all… a heavier sense of déjà vu washed over her like a waterfull as she realized that he had repeated another one of Hoggle's lines.

"Its fine," she answered stiffly before starting to walk; at that moment, she was moving more to get away from the dwarf than to reach the Goblin King's castle at the labyrinth's center. On a whim, she had chosen to make a right as soon as she entered the labyrinth, staying close the inner edge of the wall. Sarah planned on slipping through one of the near-invisible passageways as soon as her hand found one.

It chilled her to know that this dwarf was still watching her, watching the first decisions she made as she started this run. She knew very well that, at the start, Hoggle had been sent to spy on her for Jareth. She could only assume that this was the new gatekeeper's intent as well.

And, just like Hoggle had done, this new dwarf said, more of a statement than a question, "So, you're really going in there…"

There was a solemnity to his tone that made Sarah re-think her decision one last time. When she nodded, she was only reaffirming her own choices. "Yes, and I will win, too," she told him, confidently. _There_, she mused_, let Jareth think that none of his tricks have gotten to me yet. Let it be _his _turn to be nervous._ She tried to smother the small grin that pulled at her lips; for some reason, the idea of the Goblin King looking anything other than unruffled amused her more than she would ever tell him.

The dwarf only snorted again.

Sarah wasn't sorry to leave him behind. Without turning to look back again, she moved forward, moved in a way that told she actually had some idea where she was going.

She had _no_ idea where she was going.

It was quiet just then, the only sound the sound of her own footsteps. But she'd gone maybe a few feet away when a heavy _slam _erupted around her and she momentarily froze. The sound reverberated around the narrow hall and when she could breathe again, she turned around in surprise, her heat beating at the double the rate it had been. So he'd done it, then? The gatekeeper had left her alone and shut the gate behind her.

Well, that was that, wasn't it?

There was no turning back now.

* * *

**End Note**: Here's the next chapter. I hope no one is too annoyed to find that Hoggle isn't making an appearance (at least, not yet…) But I promised different, eh? Anywho, the choice of dialogue is deliberate – and quite a few of the words spoken by the dwarf are straight from the movie. However, there is a good reason for the dwarf to use those lines. Other than that, enjoy the chapter. I'm sorry it took longer than I have been to get out but, every now and then, a brief case of writer's block hits and I sit in front of three or four open word documents trying to get something written on any of my stories. I was finally able to do chapter six. Woot!

**eta**: 10.28.10; I'm back to the editing/redoing of this beast. I know many people are anxiously waiting for the last chapter, but in order for me to finish it, I have to actually be pleased with what I have. I've already done the first six chapters now, and it should'nt take that much longer to get through the rest of this. Then I plan on finishing it and, well, you'll see what's coming up next ;)


	7. Part Seven: A trick or four

**Disclaimer**: The characters and settings in this story are the property of Jim Henson and are only used for fan related purposes. The title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, Sleepwalker, and are used to set the tone of the story.

* * *

**Sleepwalker**

* * *

Part Seven: A trick or four  
_Seeing, Believing…  
__Dreaming, Deceiving…_

* * *

"Um… yer majesty?"

Jareth didn't pause to spare a glance at the goblin that stood at the foot of his throne; the crystal captured his attention and rightfully so. Still, out of the corner of his darker eye, he could see that the creature was bowing, his nose to the floor, his large, watery eyes turned downward in a sign of respect. The Goblin King had been so involved with his magick recently that all the goblins that served him inside the castle were well aware that it was a grave offense, worthy of being hit by his scepter or being dipped into the Bog of Stench—depending on the generosity of his given mood, of course—to interrupt him in his workings.

Rather, he kept his eyes on the crystal hovering slightly above his open palm, wafting gently, spinning, the reflection never distorting. In it he could see Sarah, his Sarah, as she began to navigate the labyrinth. She had remembered far more that he had expected her to but, he thought endearingly, there was still a hint of the fifteen-year-old girl she was the last time they faced off; while she made it faster into the labyrinth than he thought she would, she had still allowed herself to be waylaid momentarily.

_And all it took was a dwarf reminiscent of that idiot, what's-his-name… _

With a cheeky grin, he'd been secretly hoping that she might cry out about the fairness of it all, maybe even stamp her foot or pout a bit; she was even more stunning when she pouted. It would've made the deception taste all the sweeter to but she didn't. Rather, she put on a falsely confident front, insisting that she would defeat the intricate (and dangerous) maze.

It was such a pity that, despite her acting skills, Jareth knew her well enough to know her very thoughts. She was angry and defiant and ever so stubborn. One thing she wasn't was all that confident, but her willpower was strong. She would do it, she would best his maze again if only to spite him—which was exactly why he was already pitting his wits against her will.

Besides, he thought, daring a quick peek at the grand clock he conjured up, there was still well over nine hours left. Plenty of time for her to realize just how unfair it all was.

Turning back, he looked at Sarah once more, fixing the image of her gleeful grin as she found the first of many hidden entries among the outer layers, then blew on the crystal. The gentle breath lifted the crystal up and wafted it away, keeping it at eye level, an arm's-length away, never too far from reach.

Jareth pressed the tips of his gloved fingers together as he finally decided it was time to turn his attention to the goblin that was still bowing in front of him. The idiotic creature wasn't moving and, if Jareth didn't know better, he might've thought the goblin had fallen asleep while waiting—except, as their unwilling king, he _did_ know better and, with a loud _thwack_-ing rap of his scepter against the shining floor tiles, the goblin jerked awake and fell over onto his back.

Since this goblin was just a servant that did Jareth's bidding but wasn't actually part of the Goblin Army, Jareth didn't know why he was wearing the heavy armor but it was quite the sight to watch him roll on his back like an overturned turtle. Jareth kept his expression fixed, hiding a small chuckle tucked in the corner of his wicked grin. "Well?"

The goblin didn't say anything as he struggled to get off of his back, though his grunts were something to behold. Jareth waited with his chin in his hand, watching the goblin try as hard as he might to get back to his feet, before he decided to pity the poor thing. With a not-so-gentle nudge of his leather boot, Jareth flipped the goblin over so that he was lying on his belly. The goblin grunted again, slowly climbed to his feet then started to bow again before thinking better of it. Instead, he sprang up a salute, hitting his metal helmet and not his forehead. The helmet spun, the goblin saw stars and Jareth just rolled his eyes.

This was _exactly_ why he didn't allow goblins in his throne room unless the whims of the runner's forced him to. It was a good thing Sarah's second challenge was already decided—he didn't think he could stand another minute in this imbecile's company. And this goblin was, as per his orders, supposed to be the brightest of the lot, too!

"Well?" Jareth asked again, in case the goblin forgot what he had come to the throne room in the first place for.

The goblin was shaking his hand, trying to shake away the pain from hitting it against the edge of his pointed metal hat. When he caught on that Jareth was waiting for him, his whole body began to shake and he tried to give the Goblin King what he thought was a winning grin. Considering he was missing most of his teeth, it wasn't much. "Yer majesty! How is the king?"

Jareth waved his hand impatiently. There was too much to be done—keeping an eye on Sarah, making sure nothing thwarted his plans, preparing for a wedding—and he couldn't be bothered with exchanging empty pleasantries with a goblin who wore his shirt on the outside of his armor. "Did you all get it done?" he demanded in a soft sort of voice that warned that a very smelly future could be in store for anyone with the incorrect answer.

For a brief moment the goblin looked confused but, before Jareth could start with the same old threats, he grinned broadly. In Jareth's opinion, there wasn't much difference in the expressions. "Well?" he repeated for the third time. There was no denying the impatience underlining his voice.

The goblin, voted the smartest of the castle goblins, was smart enough to know when not to press his luck. He nodded fervently, his metal helmet crashing down on his thick skull every time his head went up but the helmet was still following. "Oh, yes, yer majesty, yes, we did." He lifted a hand with four gnarled fingers on it. With each task the goblins performed, he lowered a finger. "We made sure to hide away the dwarf." One finger. "The big, scary, hairy beast, we put him to sleep with the rocks." Two fingers. "Sir Didymus we locked inside his hut." Three fingers. The goblin glanced down, surprised to see there was still one finger left standing. "With his big hairy dog," he added, then grinned. Four fingers.

Four jobs, four fingers. The goblin nodded again, wincing when the metal helmet smacked into his brow.

Jareth pursed his lips, not entirely happy with the goblin's report. "Was that the only way you could dispose of the knight?" With so much at stake, he couldn't allow Sarah to come across one of her old friends. Not that it would do much, given the magick, but he didn't want her asking too many questions, too soon. Not yet.

This time the goblin was careful not to nod again. "Yes, yer majesty. I know we was supposed to tie him up and put him with the big, scary, hairy beasts with the rocks but the little knight demanded a battle. He gots three of us before we thought just lock the door on the outside. But that's all of them, yer majesty."

"And the coffin?"

The goblin paused, looking down at his folded fist again. With a little effort, he stuck the smallest of the fingers back up. "Oh, yes, yer majesty, we did. The glass box is set up where she can see it but not see it, just like you told us to." Then, with a satisfied bob of his head—and another wince—the goblin lowered the fourth finger again.

He was quite proud of himself, Jareth noted, as well he should be. Goblins rarely got anything right apart from snatching the wished away babes and bringing them back to the castle for him.

"Good," he answered, his lips twisted in a satisfied and cruel grin. And, with that, he reached out and gripped the crystal lightly at the bottom, pulling it out of the air. Without another word, Jareth turned his mismatched gaze back to the crystal once again resting between his fingertips. "Very good…"

The goblin watched as the Goblin King plucked the crystal out of the air and stared at it without blinking. He recognized the look and, despite wearing his helmet, put his hands over his head for protection as he backed out of the throne room. If the king needed him again, he was sure that Jareth would summon him. It was only when he went in the big room with the nice dreams in it that the king ever left the goblins alone.

Not that they minded serving their king. All of the goblins in the Goblin City were willing and eager to answer their king's every call and do all they could to follow his instructions just the way he told them to. After all, the goblins would do anything to get their queen. The king needed his queen, and the goblins needed a happy king.

And, he thought, keeping his hands covering his helmet as he scampered lopsidedly out into the main hallways, a nice and pretty queen wouldn't hit the goblins over their heads and crack their skulls with a scepter.

At least, for the sake of the brain cells they had remaining, they all _hoped _not.

* * *

Sarah was making good time.

So far she'd only heard the gong once, signaling the toll of another hour gone by; there was still a little less than nine hours to go. She'd already made various turns, all the while keeping the looming castle in her vision. It did not seem to appear any closer but, she thought optimistically, it didn't seem to be getting any further either. And, with most of her time still remaining, that was good enough for her.

It was quiet and still inside the labyrinth, and that made her a little iffy. She hadn't come across any other living creatures as she went on, except for the dwarf she met at the gate. Part of her had hoped she might meet up with the jovial little worm that she stumbled upon last time. He had been such a help, sending her on the right path, keeping her from going the wrong way. But she must've already veered off in a different direction since she'd already found a handful of hidden ways, scattered across the labyrinth's beginning.

There was no doubt that she was alone. It was quiet, but it wasn't the quiet of a labyrinth full of creatures trying to keep out of her way. No, it was the quiet of emptiness, of loneliness. The sound of her feverish footsteps was the only sounds surrounding her, echoing in the narrow ways, squeaking when she made a quick stop and an even quicker turn. After awhile she got used to it, that and the thump of her heart as she anticipated a trick, waiting for the gong to ring again.

Sarah had made quick works of the long, endless straits she first found herself in. Now, she was power-walking through short hallways, parallel and perpendicular lines all about her. It was easy to get lost. She didn't even have a tube of burnt umber lipstick on her this time—_not, _she reminded herself, _that stage make-up had been that helpful the last go-around, with cheaters changing my marks on me._

She didn't even try to find a way to mark her path. There was no point to. If there was one thing she remembered, it was that the labyrinth cheated. And not even just the inhabitants of the Underground, either. The actual maze itself cheated all the time, making it as hard as possible on the challenger. Sarah would go one way and, if she turned back to recant the decision of the direction, the labyrinth would've already changed behind her.

Sarah wasn't falling for it this time.

Her head held high, her eyes wide and alert and waiting for any trick, no matter how small and insignificant, Sarah kept moving forward. She couldn't help but wonder why she was still alone, why the labyrinth was so deathly quiet—

—_why the Goblin King hadn't made an appearance yet?_

Sarah tried to banish the intrusive thought but, once she thought it, there was no taking it back. She had to admit, it was strange. How many times had he popped up for a small chat, a tiny gloat the last time she was there? With so much on the line now, it _was_ a little weird that he was letting her have free reign of the labyrinth.

Unless—

_"_Oh, great," Sarah mumbled to herself—she found it soothing, and not as crazy as others might to have herself as a good traveling companions—as she started down one particularly long path. "I haven't been here for more than an hour yet and my imagination already ran away to join the circus. Or, wait… maybe I'm just being paranoid? That's it," she said, snapping her fingers. The sound echoes down the narrow strait. Sarah ignored it. "Jareth _has_ to be watching me," she said condescendingly, trying to talk herself into believing that the Goblin King didn't want anything more to do with her than just proving that she wasn't anywhere near as strong than he was.

_Because_, she thought, purposely thinking of anything and everything but tight leather pants and hungry eyes, _why else is he doing all this?_

"Let's see," she said in a rush, drowning out her own thoughts. She bet down low to lift a rock up from the dirt floor—the grass that surrounding the outside of the labyrinth had given way to a dusty ground once she left the first few narrow straits. She made a great display of checking underneath it. "Look at that: Jareth isn't there." Sarah let the rock drop, a cloud of dust rising as it fell.

There, on her right, was a considerable-sized hole in the rocky wall. She peeked inside. "Nope. He's not staring at me from inside here, either."

As crazy as her little game sounded and—if Jareth was watching—made her look, it did make her feel a bit better. It was going to be hard enough to beat the labyrinth with such a handicap—scoffing away those three hours had been a huge mistake, she knew—but Sarah didn't want to dwell on the seriousness of the situation. Who knew? Maybe the challenge wouldn't seem like such a challenge if she had fun while trying to beat it.

At least she was smiling now. Though she had wanted to conserve her energy for later in the ten hour time limit, Sarah found herself almost running forward. It was silly to assume that the Goblin King had nothing better to do than watch her. He had a kingdom to run, children to steal, dreams to invent… girls to chase—

Sarah nipped that thought in the bud, choosing another. _I might as well have some fun while I can. I can get more worried in a couple of hours. Besides, I think that the castle is getting closer,_ Sarah decided, whether that was true or not. It felt a little nice not to worry right then. Goodness knows there would be plenty of time for that later.

There was a turn coming up before her: right or left. She slowed her jog, her arms swinging aimlessly at her side. Feeling a giddiness that had nothing to do with her promise to put her worries on hold—if she worried for the entire ten hours (and lost), she would be a goblin with an ulcer—Sarah headed to her left. Riding her sudden high, she was prepared to kid to herself that Jareth wasn't waiting for her at her next turn but, just as she turned, she stopped dead in her tracks.

_Jareth _wasn't waiting for her inside the turn.

A large glass coffin was.

The smile was gone, followed shortly by whatever happiness had held on. They were quickly replaced by a morbid sense of curiosity—it _was_ a coffin, after all—and fear. Simple fear. She wanted to approach it, wanted to peek inside of it and get a look at the body that was encased inside, but found she couldn't. Magick or terror, something kept her from moving. Her legs just wouldn't work.

There was no denying it was a coffin, a great glass box with a brass trim along the bottom. And why was it glass? Well, that was simple. How else was she supposed to see the whole of the body resting inside? Long dark hair, a flowy white gown that hung down the sides… Sarah gulped, felt her stomach drop and, with every ounce of strength she had, managed to tear her eyes away from the sight. She looked past it instead, and couldn't stop the wry frown when she noticed that the length of the coffin was tucked neatly within a dead end.

She had to get away from it. The coffin made her nervous and the fact that there was no reason to go by it just made her glad to keep her distance. Sarah was just about to turn her back on it and find any other way to Jareth's castle when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of something beyond the coffin, just a little bit higher.

Directly above the coffin, five words were inexpertly carved into the rocks. The letters were blocky and crude but she could still read the creepy, fearsome epitaph:

_Here lie Sarah Williams' dreams._

* * *

**End Note**: Here's the next chapter. I thought it was time that we did a little checking in on our favorite monarch. He is holding nothing back this time around (as you will see by the end of the chapter). It's a little sketchy but the main parts that I wanted to get across should shine through. Also, a bunch of this chapter shall answer questions – while, at the same time, answering some. I hope you all enjoy!

**eta**: Now that NaNoWriMo is over, I'm back to the edit/re-writing process for _Sleepwalker_. Here we go!

-_ stress, 12.01.10_


	8. Part Eight: A deeper understanding

**Disclaimer**: The characters and settings in this story are the property of Jim Henson and are only used for fan related purposes. The title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, Sleepwalker, and are used to set the tone of the story.

* * *

**Sleepwalker**

* * *

Part Eight: A deeper understanding  
_A place between sleep and awake…_

* * *

She stared at the crude message for much longer than she should have, unable to—or maybe unwilling to—understand just what the words implied.

Her eyes were locked on the carved rock; the eerie glass coffin was kept just below her line of sight, lurking on the edge, beckoning her closer. But she couldn't. The idea of moving anywhere nearer to the casket or even looking at it directly, it send chills up her spine and a heavy pit in her stomach. The box seemed to sparkle invitingly, but she wasn't buying into it. Still…

_My… _dreams_? What exactly does that mean? A coffin… is that a _threat_?_

_Jareth, _she thought murderously, her hands clenched at her side,_ what are you trying to prove? _

But that was the thing. As much as she didn't want to admit it, this sort of cruel joke, this prank… it wasn't really the Goblin King's style. He was tricky—oh, was he _tricky_—but she remember him using spies, forgotten oubliettes, enchanted peaches, seductive masquerades, mechanical monsters such as his beloved Cleaners. The only threat he had was the Bog of Eternal Stench, and that was nowhere as diabolically threatening as a glass coffin with a dark-haired figure lying inside. What was a little enduring stink compared to death?

And if it wasn't really a threat… Sarah's fists tightened into little balls, nervous sweat slicking the underside, nails biting into her palms. It had to be the Goblin King. The words, the image—it had to be him. Hadn't he offered her her dreams before? But she'd been a young girl then, and she refused. She was older now, smarter, and maybe so was Jareth. He didn't offer Sarah her dreams this time.

He was pronouncing them dead.

_Dead_.

The finality of that word, that single thought, it sent chills coursing up and down her spine. She shivered, goose bumps prickling across her bare arms. It was at that moment that Sarah, for the first time in her life, felt mortal, felt human, felt small. _I could die in here_, she realized with a start._ The labyrinth is a dangerous place and I _could_ die here. Is that what the coffin means? Would the Goblin King _kill_ me… no, not kill me, let me die… just so that I couldn't beat him again? _

Almost without meaning to, Sarah read the five-word message carved into the rock and swallowed. _My dreams… what does he know about my dreams? And why does he think he has them? _What_ is in that box?_

Sarah took a deep breath and tried to look at the image resting inside the glass coffin—but she still couldn't. She was too afraid to.

She didn't want to know what Jareth had thought to place inside of it.

When Sarah refused his offer three years ago, the Goblin King had never shown her what was lurking within the depths of his crystal. Maybe, she figured, it was better if she didn't peek inside and witness their demise. She wanted to believe everything she was looking at had everything to do with her dreams and nothing to do with _her_—she didn't want to believe that this could be an omen for what would happen before the ten hours was up.

She didn't want to believe that the Goblin King was capable of placing her—and not just her dreams—into a glass casket.

Slowly, unblinkingly, Sarah backed out of the dead end. It was the only thing she could think to do, and she wasn't even the one thinking it. Her feet were on autopilot, taking matter into their own hands; Sarah followed them, her eyes never leaving those five words until she turned back onto the first strait she'd been in. Only then, when another rocky wall stood between her and the coffin, did Sarah let out the breath she'd been holding in and unfold her clenched fists. Using her fingers to massage her sore palms, she let her thoughts linger on the Goblin King.

_He could do it, too, _she realized, almost entirely certain, _I'm sure he could. I mean, he's even tried once before, didn't he? What would have happened if the wall didn't break and the Cleaners had gotten me? I could be dead now. He could've killed me! And he hasn't changed one bit since then! He's still after me… chasing me through my dreams. I never knew he could do that—_

_I don't know anything about him at _all_._

Because, what really did she know about him? He was a character in a children's book, a villain with no heart, no soul, just wickedness. But was he? He was her girlish fantasies come to form, the spitting image of her mother's leading man. Amazing. He was a savior, taking away Toby when she wanted nothing more than for her annoying baby brother to be taken away. _Generous._

The Goblin King was a magician and a puppeteer, ruling the labyrinth with his goblin creatures and his crystals. He was a dream—everything Sarah had ever imagined a man could be. He was a nightmare—everything that frightened her and kept her from ever trusting the dark. She was the only eighteen year old she knew who still had a nightlight.

Could he be a murderer?

Questions, always questions, and she hadn't received a single answer yet. Wasn't that why she made this foolish wish in the first place? For answers? Or for her freedom? Right then there were too many questions running through her head, too many, occupying her enough that she didn't recognize her fatal flaw. The labyrinth—and the close to nine hours she had remaining—was forgotten. What did it matter if she won or not if Jareth was threatening her? If he intended to do away with her regardless of whether she beat the labyrinth again or failed?

He had held up his end of the agreement last time, letting her return home. Would he do that again this time if she won? Somewhere, vaguely, whispering from the depths of her consciousness, she had to admit that she didn't think so. Despite her admirable intentions of defeating the labyrinth—defeating the Goblin King—for the second time, something told Sarah that she wouldn't be returning Aboveground again.

Stubborn to a fault, and proud, Sarah quickly squashed that niggling, nagging idea. After all, she'd only just begun her run; she couldn't afford to start thinking like that. Negativity would be her downfall, and she couldn't have that. So, taking a deep breath, she let her thoughts return to the intimidating glass coffin only a turn away. She couldn't help but think there was more to it than met the resisting eye. It couldn't just be a cruel trick just to frighten her.

_Could it?_

"No," Sarah said out loud, answering her own question. "Even though that_ would_ be just his style alright, a nasty trick to waste time as the clock wound down, I really don't think so. There was a purpose to it… maybe there's some kind of clue to it being there. She nibbled on the bottom of her lips, talking out loud to herself as she worked it out. "The wall said those are my dreams. If they are… what are they? What did he think they were?"

She hadn't looked at the glass coffin long, but there was no denying what she'd seen—and maybe that was why it made her so frightened, so nervous to look at it any longer than she had. There was a body inside, perhaps woman; there was no denying the long dark hair that hung over the edge like the long, silky material of the virgin white gown. It was definitely some sort of resting place—but how could it be? Dreams were such an intangible concept, an idea, a fantasy… why was there a body inside?

What did it mean?

There was a different feeling then, an itch instead of a quaver. The fear was still, and the nerves, but Sarah Williams wasn't the sort of girl to turn away from a challenge. That's what the creepy coffin and the spooky words were: a challenge from the Goblin King himself. There weren't any riddles or spies this time so far—maybe these were the sort of tricks she was up against this time. One thing was for sure, she wasn't going to get any further in the labyrinth if she didn't confront the glass coffin containing her dreams right now.

Of course, the fact that the narrow way she had retreated to had switched to another dead end while she was waiting was a good point, too.

_You're not going to trick me so easily, _she huffed, heading back to the passageway she'd just escaped_. I said it once and I'll say it again: I_ will _beat you. I _will _be normal. And I _won't_ be haunted by the memory of you, always questioning my own sanity, hiding from my own dreams._

_You will _not _win. I won't_ let_ you._

Sarah was determined, swallowing her panic as her hand reached out to touch the rocky edge of the wall. She paused there for a second, reminding herself what was important—for the first time in years, she allowed herself to relive the moment when the world came crashing down last time… did the Goblin King really look so crushed?—then closed her eyes and burst into the dead end where she left the glass box and the carved wall.

Filling just a little silly, Sarah didn't open her eyes right away. She knew she was acting like a kid, but she couldn't help it. It was one thing to tell herself to confront her fears and face whatever there was inside that coffin, but it was another entirely to actually walk up the gleaming, crystal box and take a peek inside. Chiding herself, psyching herself up for it, Sarah exhaled and opened her eyes.

There was nothing there.

No glass coffin. No eerie message. No wall, even.

The labyrinth had changed again. It was all gone.

In a daze, she walked hesitantly down the passageway, pausing to stand in the same place where the glass coffin had been only a few minutes ago. She glanced down. The dirt ground was packed solid and undisturbed; there was no sign that anything had been laid there, placed there or even dragged away. It had simple vanished as if it had never been.

_You know,_ she thought to herself wryly, _I should've been expecting this._

Still, that didn't stop her from holding her hands up like an untrained mime, one hand sticking out a little further than the other. She patted the air, looking for the box, looking for the wall that was now gone. It was no illusion. Her hands passed through the air, finding nothing at all. She moved to the side, just in case. The rocks were as textured as the rest of the labyrinth. As far as her fingertips and the flesh of her palms could tell nothing had even been carved anywhere into these walls before.

Her hands fell to her sides. Sarah let out a rough exhale of frustration. Just when she was prepared to go up against the glass coffin, it disappeared. If that wasn't a sign that this trick had Jareth written all over it, she didn't know what would. Silently she cursed him, that sense of not discovering the secret about the box worse than anything there might've been inside. She felt empty, unfinished and annoyed.

It only got worse when, somewhere high above her, a deep throbbing gong rang out twice.

There were only eight hours left.

* * *

**End Note**: So, that was the next chapter. To be honest, I didn't really like it at, but I reworked it a little until I was happier with it. Overall, I like Sarah's thought process but not too much really seems to happen – scratch that, nothing really happens, and it's short to boot. But there are some clues to the continuation of this story so maybe I'm just being critical. That or I just don't like it when Jareth isn't there to torment Sarah. It's more fun having him there than lurking in the back of her mind, no? Anywho, here it is. The next one will be longer, feature Jareth and expand on the coffin as well as Sarah's trek through the labyrinth. So, yeah, it should get better. Woot. But, for now, review so I feel better. Shoot - you can lie to me, if you like ;)


	9. Part Nine: A confrontation

**Disclaimer**: The characters and settings in this story are the property of Jim Henson and are only used for fan related purposes. The title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, Sleepwalker, and are used to set the tone of the story.

* * *

**Sleepwalker**

* * *

Part Nine: A confrontation  
_End of innocence, unending masquerade..._

* * *

The ringing sound of the gong, so very loud that it made her back teeth vibrate, it only served to fuel her annoyance. At first she thought she heard it wrong, but there was no denying that the bell sounded twice. She'd barely made it anywhere in the labyrinth and already two hours had passed.

But _how_? She couldn't understand it. Looking back on it, she could tell she'd spent far longer thinking about the glass coffin than she should've, but how could an hour have past? It didn't make sense. She'd had close to nine when she first set foot down this path but the gong rang twice. Two hours gone.

_Gone_.

Disbelieving, Sarah glanced down at the silver watch on her wrist, expecting to see that she was right and that time had been unfairly stolen from her. But the hands on the tiny face mocked her; the time on her watch matched the ringing of Jareth's fantastical clock. Sarah frowned and lifted her wrist to her ear, just in case. _Tick, tock… tick, tock… _It was running properly, not too fast, not too slow and she was forced to admit that maybe she really had wasted the first two hours as she had.

She wouldn't waste another minute.

It was a little bit of a struggle, but Sarah forced herself to dismiss the glass coffin from her mind. "The walls change in here all the time," she reminded herself firmly. "They're always cheating. That… that box must've just moved with them." _If the glass box really did exist in the first place_,she added inwardly. For all she knew, maybe her whole no-sleep thing, coupled with the stress of confronting her past again meant that this was all in her head. _Maybe it was all just a dream_—

"It's not a dream, Sarah."

It took her a moment to realize that someone—some_thing—_had answered her, then it took her another to realize that the silky smooth voice belonged to the Goblin King...who was very obviously not there. Frozen in place, Sarah looked behind her, to her side, in front and there was no sign of him at all. The disembodied voice of her foe was so startling that it took her a whole minute before it dawned on her that Jareth had answered her but she hadn't asked her question out loud.

"Where are you?" she said accusingly. "How did you… how did—agh! I don't like this! It's not _fair_!"

Sarah wished she could've taken those heated words back the instant she said them. It was an automatic response to the games the Goblin King were playing with her and despite wanting to seem cool, calm and collected, the sudden appearance of his voice had rattled her.

She waited in vain for a few seconds to see if he would answer her, answer her and maybe call her out on her minute tantrum, but everything remained still and quiet in the labyrinth. Sarah heard nothing except for her feverish breath and the drum-like beat of her pounding heart. She exhaled, willing her heart to slow, all the while thinking: _was it another trick? Did Jareth really speak to me, or was it my imagination?_

Not that she wanted to imagine the Goblin King calling out to here… but what else could it be?

The purr of his sultry laugh sent shivers up and down her spine. Goosebumps popped up all along her arm as Jareth murmured, "It's not your imagination either, my dear Sarah."

Now, Sarah knew he wasn't there. She'd just checked. However, even as he answered her unspoken thought, she couldn't help but look again. It was easier to try to accuse him of what she suspected face to face rather than scream at a voice she could hear but not see. Because, even though she could hear him, how in the world could he hear her thoughts? Sarah wasn't sure she wanted to know… but that didn't stop her from saying almost tentatively, "Goblin King?"

There was no answer, but the Goblin King could be stubborn and cruel just when he thought he was being his most generous.

Sighing in aggravation, Sarah tried again: "Jareth!"

Her shout was so loud that she almost expected the rocky walls around her to crumble and come tumbling down as the words reverberated. She wouldn't have been surprised to know that he could hear her from his place in his damn castle—but there was no more reply.

That only made Sarah angrier. There was no denying his intent now, and this trick was far worse than the glass coffin. With the coffin, he was threatening her dreams. Now, though... now he was invading her privacy!

_My thoughts, Jareth? _She directed all the heat of her fury in his direction, hoping her thoughts came out like a shout wherever he was. _You're breaking in on my thoughts? How's that fair?_

His voice was like velvet. "Ah, but whoever said we were playing fair?"

Sarah knew then that she was right. He didn't respond to her when she spoke out loud, but he replied to her every thought. She didn't know how he was doing it, but he _was _doing it. It made her feel dirty, invaded, as if he was inside her head with her. The anger kept her focused, and she was grateful for it. What happened if her very mind betrayed her and she thought something she never wanted him to know?

Momentarily remembering the way he smirked at her earlier just when her gaze dropped lower than it should've, Sarah felt her cheeks burn. What if he already _knew_?

She was gritting her teeth as if she could impress her absolute outrage at his actions through her thoughts just by biting down as hard as she could. She clamped her hands over her ears and squinted her eyes, focusing all of her energy on the message. _Stop this! _she demanded. _Stop this right now! Get out of my head!_

Jareth's answer was one part lazy, one part amused and nowhere near as abashed as Sarah had hoped. "Maybe I will," he drawled, "maybe I won't… there's so much in here that I'm learning of my challenger. It's quite fascinating and, hmm, just a little naughty—"

Suddenly, as if she had no control, Sarah's mind was filled with the image of Jareth's body. Starting at the neck, with the open shirt, the bare chest, her mind's eye started to pan downward, going slowly, slowly until all she saw was the tight leather breeches the Goblin King wore… and then she knew: he wasn't just reading her thoughts—he was manipulating them.

But this was Sarah's head and she'd had eighteen years of practice, working with her memories, trying to forget: forget her mother running out on her, forget the first days after Toby was born and the crying wouldn't stop, forget her last journey Underground. Except now she didn't want to forget. Remembering with all her might, she called up the last time she faced off against Jareth—

Fifteen-year old Sarah said dazedly, "My will is as strong," and eighteen-year-old Sarah ran with it. _My will is as strong and my kingdom great_, she shouted inside the confines of her head as she, quite literally, started to run down the strait. And, it seemed, her will was strong enough—either that or Jareth was still playing with her—because the flash of leather disappeared from her mind, the color fled from her cheeks and Sarah tried to leave the unpleasantness (and the embarrassment) behind her as she flew.

The anger, though, that she held onto. Because, no matter how fast she ran, the sound of his laughter followed right behind.

* * *

When the ridiculous goblin in his dented helmet left the Goblin King, Jareth was left alone. That in and of itself was something to marvel at: it was very rare that he could enjoy baiting a challenger without their wished-away problems wailing somewhere close by—if not in the throne room with him. He knew better than to trust the stolen children with the goblins and it was nice to keep an eye on the labyrinth's challenger without having to spare another on a prospective prize.

Not that Sarah Williams was just another challenger. To Jareth, _she _was the prospective prize and a prize he very much already considered won.

The glass coffin, he mused without the least hint of modesty, was the perfect obstacle to waylay the girl and turn her attention away from the task at hand. It had a mystical air about it, but it certainly lived up to the expectations Sarah would have regarding the labyrinth; it was something to frighten, something to stall, and with the use of his scrying crystals, Jareth could see the glass coffin did just that. And the epitaph… it was a nice touch. Of course it was.

It amused him, too, how well he anticipated her reactions. Her surprise, her curiosity—no sooner had Sarah fled from the sight did she return to it in determination. Expecting her to do just that, Jareth had waved his hand and disappeared the glass coffin the instant her eyes were elsewhere; with another gesture, the words were erased.

And to think she actually wasted more time checking the walls, the very space where his tricks had just been. The Goblin King watched in amusement as she ran the fleshy part of her palm, the gentle tips of her fingers against the inner wall of his labyrinth, searching for something, _anything_ that would explain everything.

The heat of her anger surprised him; it was a much stronger emotion than the shame or intrigue he felt coming off her in waves only seconds before. He would have to cool that flame, he told himself, or else he was very liable to be burned.

Of course she found none. Magick had a way of erasing things. Sarah, he felt, should've known that.

_Silly girl._

That's when the gong rang out_._

Even in the Underground, there were stronger forces than magick. Of them, time was one of the most relevant. It was easily manipulated, stretched and pulled, snipped and tucked when he saw the need to, but only when he was focusing intently on it; when he had an opponent even stronger than time, it could be forgotten. Forgotten and then, when he least expected it, it rose up to bite him in the rear.

The gong rang out and all thoughts of the glass casket, of the message he so painstakingly left for her then easily stole away, they were all gone as Sarah remembered where she was and what she was trying to do.

That's not to say that Jareth wasn't ready and waiting with another trick. He was.

Like the glass coffin itself, he had another spell that was simple but effective. A dash of magick and a pinch of glitter sprinkled on top of his scrying crystal and suddenly he could hear her every thought: the good, the bad, the _intriguing_. A sly curve of his lip showed just how pleased he was at the way their last confrontation had effected Sarah; a slow rise of his eyebrow reflected just how sincerely Sarah wanted to win.

What a pity.

Sarah wondered if the glass was nothing but a cruel dream. Jareth was quick to correct her.

She looked for him. He wasn't there.

Beautiful in her blustering, she called out to him. He pointedly didn't answer.

Understanding his trick, Sarah thought about him. Unable to rein in his grin, the Goblin King finally answered.

He had to give the girl credit. So desperate to act as if the magick was impossible—considering she was currently in the Underground, challenged a fae king, it had to be desperation that kept her blind to it all—Sarah pretended not to understand where his voice was coming from longer than he expected. Then, when even Sarah couldn't feign ignorance anymore, she still found a way to keep him out.

Jareth was a creature above morals. To him it was magick; to Sarah, an invasion of privacy. What did it matter how he tried to entice the girl to fail so long as she _failed_? Because he was right when he told her that no one ever said they were playing fair. Then again, what was it those mortals said? All's fair in love and war, and with Sarah Williams being his challenger, this was _both_.

The laughter came easy as he watched the girl run, as if she could really outdistance him. Still, there was the smallest of hitches when he caught sight of the direction she was moving. Despite the time she had wasted, and while it was obvious she was running to get away from him without paying attention to where she was going, she had managed to find the right direction. If she kept going that way, she would eventually reach the castle.

And he couldn't have that.

Snapping his finger and disappearing the crystal, Jareth spared one last triumphant grin before he vanished next.

* * *

_You have no power over me_, Sarah said in her mind, repeating it over and over again just in case Jareth was still listening, _no power over me... over me... _It was a reminder for the Goblin King as it was for herself. The last thing she wanted was for him to dip inside her mind and manipulate her thoughts and emotions and reveal things she would much rather keep hidden. She'd never expected he could be capable of this—she never anticipated such a move—but she wouldn't make that mistake again.

He was a villian, she had to remember that. Cruel and capricious, a monster straight out of her nightmares. He was wicked, stealing children and turning them into goblins. So what if his hair looked so feather-soft that her fingers were just itching to reach out. Or that the leather hugged him in all the right places—

_No power over me_, she thought with as much force as she could muster. She scowled, inwardly accusing him of planting such thoughts inside her mind while, at the same time, secretly suspected that that was one trick Jareth hadn't sunk to just yet.

But how could there be any secrets when he was inside her head?

Sarah kept pumping her arms, moving forward as fast as she could, taking turns without really knowing where she was doing; she let her dormant instincts be her guide. She had no idea how Jareth had figured out a way to get inside her mind but she wasn't going to let him linger in there if she could help it. He was pushing her too far now. This wasn't just a matter of pride—this was a matter of privacy.

And then—

"Mm... Sarah?"

She had hoped that, somehow, she had outrun his control over her; that, or her speech from her last victory had some effect on him. But his voice was so close and it sounded so melodic as he murmured her name that Sarah found herself yelling out, "You have no power—"

But the thing was this: Jareth was no longer just a whisper insider her ear, a thought inside her mind. In the blink of an eye, with a cloud of glitter settling at his feet the only indication that he'd simply popped into existence in front of her, Jareth had joined Sarah within the rocky corridor. He wore the same clothes as before, without bothering with any disguises. It wasn't necessary and, besides, he liked the way Sarah liked the way he wore his breeches.

Except Sarah, with her eyes on the dirt as she kept on running, didn't see him standing there at all. Not until it was too late.

Any other man—man or fae—but the Goblin King might have been caught unaware by Sarah's stubborn insistence not to see him. Any other man would've expected the girl to slow, or would've been bowled over when she didn't. But not him. He knew the girl well enough to know how she would react. And, when she did, when she kept running until she would've kept running into him, Jareth already had his arms out ready to catch her before she crashed into him.

"—over me," she finished with a squeak, Jareth's tight grip grabbing her shoulders and keeping her falling when his touch was enough to stop her momentum in a heartbeat.

It was another heartbeat—a gasp and a quickened pace—before Sarah realized she'd been caught, and by the Goblin King, too. She could feel the thick leather of his gloves as his fingers bit into her skin. For such a willowy man, he was stronger than he appeared and his grip on her t-shirt kept her on her feet. Sarah refused to look up, refused to meet his mismatched gaze, but she found it impossible when he chuckled under his breath and asked softly, "What were you saying, Sarah?"

Her head jerked up, his voice pulling on her like a puppeteer manipulates the strings. He was _right there_, smirking down on her, only a few inches away. Sarah gasped, hardly aware that he was still holding tightly to her shoulders, and she narrowed her green eyes on the points of that canines that seemed overly large with him so close.

"Tell me... how are you liking my labyrinth this time around?"

His words were like a slap in the face: they caused Sarah to flinch and, in that instant, she was brought around and reminded of what she was doing. And just who was still holding onto her.

"Let me go," she gasped, trying to pull out of his grasp. But his hands were like vices. They wouldn't budge.

"Why? Don't you enjoy my touch, Sarah?"

Sarah refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing any indecision. She didn't care if he could still read her mind or not—just then, if he didn't let go of her, she was prepared to slap his hands away. So what if it felt kind of nice to have him hold her like that, to have him keep her from falling flat on her face? Who was he anyway, to treat her like this?

Well, besides the ruler of this realm and master of the labyrinth, that is?

"Let me go," she said again, before adding almost begrudgingly, "please. I still have eight hours of my own. You haven't won anything off of me yet."

Jareth noted the subtle use of the word _yet_; that meant more to him than any amount of _please'_s. With a conceding nod of his head he let go of her shoulder and watched as, unbalanced as she'd been when he caught her, Sarah stumbled and ended up on one knee in the dirt. He watched her as she fell and while he could've kept her from falling, he didn't. He didn't say a word.

And then with the slightest curl of his lip—

"Clumsy."

The taunt rang in Sarah's ears. Her left knee had banged the dirt when she stumbled and the pain was nothing to the humiliation she was suffering from. Maybe it was anger, maybe it was exhaustion, but she couldn't keep up that all-consuming mask of confidence any longer. A sheen of tears glossed over her green eyes but, stubborn as ever, there they stayed.

Bitterness crept into her tone as she demanded of the Goblin King one word: "Why?" It felt good to get spit that out. That single question had been weighing on her for three years, whenever she allowed herself to think of that night. "Why me? What did I ever do?"

Jareth looked surprised. At first Sarah had trouble placing the expression, she had never seen him look so vulnerable before. There was no haughtiness there now, no smugness, just honest surprise. "Don't you know?"

She shook her head.

"And you believe I should tell you?"

"Yes. I... It's only fair."

"Fair," murmured Jareth, a tiny smile playing at his lips. "You say that so often."

Sarah fought to keep her expression neutral. Slowly, she got to her feet, brushing the knees of her jeans free of the dirt that covered her when she fell. "So," she said, refusing to meet his gaze again. She had blinked away all of those traitorous tears but she would be damned if she let the Goblin King see any lingering trace of where they had been. "Are you going to answer my question? Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you challenged me," was his reply, "and I will never lose."

"How can you?" she snapped. "I would always win if I could cheat, too!"

Jareth tilted his head to the side. "And how am I cheating?"

Sarah gritted her teeth. "What would you call listening to my thoughts?"

"An advantage."

"Stay out of my head," the girl warned. "You might not like what you find in there."

And, as if proving her point, Sarah called forth every intimidating memory she had of him: from the Goblin King's glittery arrival in her parents' bedroom window three years ago to the smashing of his crystal realm when she defeated him the first time, and the countless times she spied owls flying overhead when she would duck and hide their amber eyes. She thought fondly of Hoggle and Ludo and Sir Didymus, and sent every fear, every nightmare back at Jareth.

He had stolen three years of her life. She wasn't going to let him steal another minute.

The magick was still at work and Jareth felt the weight of Sarah's fears weigh on his immortal shoulders. There was venom in her memories interspersed with the fondness she felt for the Underground friends she made—but none of that fondness was directed towards him.

Maybe she was right. At the very least, what would it hurt to let her think she was?

Jareth bowed his head in mock acceptance. "As you wish, your majesty. From now on your thoughts are yours alone... even if you might not like what _you _find in there, my dear Sarah." And, with those words and one last flash of leather in the forefront of her mind before he removed the spell, he was gone.

* * *

**End Note**: Here's the next chapter. I promised you longer, I promised you more Jareth, I promised more torment. And, guess what? I fulfilled all three of those promises. I know, I'm as excited as you are. But, then again, let's just remember to be that excited when we get to the end of the chapter, eh? You'll see what I mean (insert evil laughter here) … Enjoy :) And review. Gotta remember that part. Woot.

**eta**: 06.07.11 - back to the rewrite!


	10. Part Ten: A moment of introspection

**Disclaimer**: The characters and settings in this story are the property of Jim Henson and are only used for fan related purposes. The title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, Sleepwalker, and are used to set the tone of the story.

* * *

**Sleepwalker**

* * *

Part Ten: A moment of introspection  
_That's where I'll wait for you…_

* * *

A moment later, and without any sort of impressive entry, Jareth arrived in his throne room. A thoughtful expression flittered across his face as his blond hair settled on his shoulders. He was alone and grateful that none of his goblins had slipped in while he was with Sarah.

_Sarah..._

Leaning back into his throne, Jareth retrieved his scepter from its place at the side and absently tapped it on his thigh. The remnants of the magick that allowed him to see inside Sarah's mind had faded but that didn't mean he had forgotten what it was he _had_ seen. It had been... interesting, to say the least, watching himself through Sarah's eyes. And, perhaps, a little illuminating.

With an aggravated huff, he dropped his scepter back to the floor and, presenting the flat of his palm to the ceiling, he conjured another crystal. But he didn't activate the scrying spell on it just yet; he left it blank. Then, holding the smooth glass orb in the center of his gloved hand, he awarded it a very rare genuine smile.

Jareth kept his mismatched gaze on the crystal, rocking it a bit forward, and a bit back, enjoying the weight of the scrying vessel in his palm as he danced before he tossed it up in the air. He folded his hands together underneath the slowly spinning crystal and, once his palms met, the crystal froze, mid-air.

It didn't fall.

The crystal hovered in front of him, as if it had managed to get itself stuck right in the patch of air right in front of Jareth's odd eyes. _Yes_, he mused, _t__hings are going rather splendidly for now… but what to do next? _Just the fierceness and stubbornness in the way Sarah had behaved during their brief confrontation was more than enough of a sign that the girl wasn't ready to give up or give in. Not yet, at any rate.

He would have to work a little harder.

Which was, after all, the reason he had transported himself back to his throne room. It was time for some further stategizing. The coffin had stalled her just like he wanted it to, and his sudden appearance in the labyrinth had left her both angry and confused. But there was still eight hours left and Sarah could be wily and resourceful—not to mention the fact that he left her walking the right path. He needed another obstacle to waylay her on her journey towards his castle.

Of course, he would have to wait a bit before throwing another slice at her. For one thing, if allowed her the chance to build up her wavering self-confidence again, it would be all the easier to get her slip up later; if everything went according to plan, maybe Sarah would continue to blame herself when she was defeated. For another, Jareth was well aware that, if he continued to thwart her, stall and stop her, Sarah would stubbornly refuse to give in when her ten hours eventually ran out. She might not realize it yet, but every step she had taken, every turn she made, ever since she had enter the labyrinth again, she'd only been hurrying towards _him._

Sarah Williams had no chance of winning. In fact, the girl had already lost. But she had no way of knowing that and Jareth, master of her fate, had no intentions of telling her just yet.

He couldn't tell her the truth—and, even if he could, he wouldn't. Not until the tenth hour tolled and she had no choice but to surrender to him at last. Only then might she finally understand the intricate dance the two of them had undertaken. The pair had been carefully entwined in a dangerous duet for too many years. Sarah might've thought the song had ended when she was fifteen and broke through the crystal of his masquerade, but that was then. This was now.

Let the music play again...

Almost unaware, Jareth began to hum Sarah's melody under his breath. It was her song as much as it was his and he longed to have her in his arms again to continue the dance—but it wasn't time for that just yet. He knew he had to play it safe. Like all great dances, there had to be an element of suspense and an air of awkward tension—a moment when the two partners were separated by nothing but individual apprehension and a heavy breath of air. He could reach for her but if he did, his perfect dance partner would shatter, crumbling inwardly at his touch. Hadn't she already, pulling away from him in the labyrinth?

He had to keep his distance, enticing her into his embrace rather than pull her forward with force. That was where he had failed last time. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Titling his head back, he lazily blew on the crystal. Softly, gently, the crystal began to float free, drifting upwards. His narrowed gaze followed it, his thoughts still focused on the mortal girl currently attempting to win her freedom from him. In the solitude of his throne room, Jareth had to echo her question: _Why_? In all the time he begrudgingly lorded over the Goblin King, he'd never had a mortal wish themselves away before. And why would he? What sane mortal would willingly wish herself into servitude?

And then there was the labyrinth itself. A structure as vast and as enchanted like Jareth's maze was too large to be sustained solely by the magick of a single fae, king or not—it had a substantial amount of power of its own. Though too many assumed the magick belonged to the Goblin King, it was really the labyrinth that decided whether a careless wish was made with just enough meaning for Jareth to interfere. Only the labyrinth knew whether or not the mortal doing the wishing truly understood the magnitude of those ominous words—

_I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now. _

If the labyrinth believed that the words were simply chanced upon and the speaker had no clue what was at stake, the child was left alone. When Sarah Williams had foolishly wished away her baby brother, the labyrinth was more than happy to send out the goblins to pull the child into the Underground. It was well aware that Sarah had the knowledge of her little red book; therefore, she understood what the fate of Toby would be.

But the labyrinth also knew that the Goblin King had used small magick to entice the girl to speak those very same words, and the maze knew what Jareth was up to now...

It was an interest at first, nothing more, that made the fae king notice the mortal girl. From the moment the old book fell into Sarah's hands, the Goblin King worked cleverly to bring her into his realm. None of his goblins, his kin, his people... none of them knew; only his precious maze had any idea just how interested and conflicted he felt. There was something about the girl, the way she seemed to believe in him so honestly, so innocently, his interest evolved into something close to affection.

That affection very quickly became infatuation. From there, it was only a short leap to full-fledged _desire._

It took all of his cunning, every ounce of restraint he had before the girl finally invited him into her life, if only because she wanted him to remove Toby from it. At first, it seemed as if the girl was aware of the king's affection for her. That night, the night she made her careless wish, he could hear her voice as clear as day, a whisper on the wind—

_Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl whose stepmother always made her stay home with the baby. And the baby was a spoiled child, and wanted everything for himself, and the young girl was practically a slave. But what no one knew is that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and he had given her certain powers—_

Jareth waited on bated breath, even more anxious than his goblins. When she finally said the right words, they disappeared first. And the Goblin King hurried to make his first appearance, all the time wondering: _How did she know_?

It was a mixture of pride and stubbornness that kept him from showing her how he felt. He went out of his way to show everyone how indifferent he was to her, even if he did falter. Twice. After getting the real gatekeeper of the labyrinth to give her an enchanted, Jareth awarded himself by attempting to seduce the young girl amidst a garish masquerade scene. Of course, fifteen-year-old Sarah was too naïve to understand the meaning behind his words, the meaning behind his glance and she fled from him. Then, later, when they finally faced off within the confines of his faux castle, still transformed under the illusion magick, he at last lowered his mask and revealed himself to the Sarah. He offered her everything he could think of in return for only her will—

_I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave._

But she had denied him—

_You have no power over me._

As Jareth lounged further back into his throne, the floating crystal lowering itself gracefully so that it remained at his eye-level, his lips quirked into a wry smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. It had been those same five words that propelled him to devise such an intricate plan. It would've been easy—too easy—to forget the girl. Goodness knows there were plenty of eligible fae women in the Underground just itching to become his Queen.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Damn it, he'd been _generous_, hadn't he? Why had she refused?

The Goblin King, even as a child, he'd never gotten accustomed to losing. Anything he wanted was his, either by magick or tricky or any other means he cold find. Sarah Williams was not just a mortal girl to him—she represented something that he wanted and could not have. Which was why he kept his crystals turned towards her for the past three years.

Through the use of his scrying crystals, Jareth watched and he waited and he learned all the silly mortal customs. He was an invisible witness as Sarah seemingly grew out of her fantastical habits, hiding away her copy of the old book, forgetting how to view her old friends from within the depths of her vanity. Despite his best intentions, he watched as Sarah put her past behind her. He was just beginning to question his own aims—why, really, after a millennium of life, was he allowing a _mortal _to dominate him?—when he chanced upon another venue to Sarah. The girl turned eighteen; according to the customs she lived by, such an age made her an adult.

It was the labyrinth's rule: Jareth couldn't touch a child that had bested his maze. But was an adult different? _Yes_. His obsession, made all the stronger for his momentary lapse, came again at full force. It was then that he decided to try the old magick, forsaking some of the newer spells for those that had worked in the past. It was much more difficult, and vastly more draining of his powers, but it worked. And, though it didn't work the way that he had initially planned, Sarah was in the labyrinth again.

In a little less than eight hours, she would be his. _Finally_.

Still, It bothered Jareth how, even three years later, Sarah managed to act as if she was unaware of the feelings he had for her, dominant and possessive and wanting as they were. The grin that had played out across his lips faded and he closed his eyes momentarily. In the recess of his mind he could still see her—he could see the way that she looked up at him, unshed, bitter tears glittering in her green eyes. She had asked him 'why'; the look of surprise that slipped out was genuine. _How does she not know? How does she not understand my desire for her? _

The sight of her upset, looking up at him as if he were a cruel monster, made him feel just a twinge of guilt—but nowhere near enough to stop him from continuing this game. He would have the girl, that much was certain. When all this was said and done, Jareth would impress upon her the depths of his devotion; Sarah would never had to cry again. She would be his Queen. All he had to do was convince her of that.

The Goblin King exhaled softly as he opened his eyes again. Snapping his fingers, the crystal hovered closer until it nestled itself into the cup of his palm. Once it touched his glove, the image lit up. It had been enough time since he left Sarah alone in the labyrinth. Why not check to see what her next move was before he planned his?

It was just as he expected: Sarah was heading down the same strait, heading ever closer to his castle. A change had overcome the girl, however. She didn't seem as flustered and, rather than wasting her energy by running, she walked purposely forward, ignoring any of the arrows or the marking that might lead her from her path. Every few turns she would dare a glance at the silver watch on her left wrist but she didn't seem anything less than confident.

Jareth shook his head, the smile returning to his beautiful face.

_My precious thing still thinks she can defeat me, _he mused, tapping the tips of his fingers against the glass. He stifled a superior chuckle._ Ah, precious but such a silly, silly girl._

* * *

**Author's Note**: Here's the next chapter. Chapter Ten, woot! I was kind of torn on this chapter – I know what the next big twist will be, it was just the matter of whether or not this was the moment for it. After looking over the reviews (of which I am so grateful for – I never, in my wildest imagination, thought that I would get such a response like this – THANKS!), I decided to get a look inside of Jareth's head again. Even if Sarah did not get an answer to her question, it does not mean that we don't get to know, right? Anywho, enjoy this chapter – hopefully I'll have the next one out quickly since I already know what direction this is heading into. Yay :)

**eta**: 06.08.11 - updated!


	11. Part Eleven: A realization by Sarah

**Disclaimer**: The characters and settings in this story are the property of Jim Henson and are only used for fan related purposes. The title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, Sleepwalker, and are used to set the tone of the story.

* * *

**Sleepwalker**

* * *

Part Eleven: A realization by Sarah_  
Sleepwalker seducing me…_

* * *

If it wasn't for the fact that Sarah couldn't quite trust the Goblin King to stay out of her thoughts, she might have given in to her building frustration—but she didn't. Stubbornly, she refused to think about how her heart was thudding or how sweaty her hands were getting, balled into tight fists as they were. She tried to keep her mind as empty as possible, though that was more difficult than she would've expected.

It was downright _impossible_.

Because, even though Jareth had stopped calling out in response to her every thought, she couldn't bring herself to believe him when he said he would leave her thoughts to her alone. As easily as he had slipped in with his invasive magic, how would she know if he was back so long as he kept his smarmy mouth shut? And what had he meant when he threw her own words back at her? _You might not like what _you _find in there... _

She didn't think about that, either.

Another turn was coming up in the labyrinth. It was the first one she had seen in what seemed like forever; a quick glance at her watch revealed that it was only six minutes but _still_. This was supposed to be a labyrinth, a complex maze, and she knew that from her last trip through. But there were hardly any turns now, only a couple every few feet before long, never-ending straits took over.

Momentarily letting her focus lapse, Sarah directed her heated thoughts at the Goblin King: _What are you playing at now_?

There wasn't any answer. Then again, she hadn't really expected there to be. Even if he _was _still lurking inside her head, would he really give up his position by answering her? It was just enough for him to have that lingering threat hanging over her—it was just enough for her to suspect everything.

The upcoming turn wasn't a difficult one. There was only one way to go, to the left, and Sarah didn't even hesitate before taking it. She took every turn she could find if only because it made her feel as if she was making some sort of progress in this blasted maze. At the rate she was wasting her time so far, who knew if she would make it to the castle within her ten hour time limit?

Not for the first time did she regret scoffing away those extra three hours, but she shoved that thought aside. _I can do this_, she told herself. _I just have to believe I can. Whatever he's doing, whatever tricks he's playing at or whatever sabotage he's using, I can beat him._ There was another turn, a right this time, and she took it—before walking through the opening and coming to a complete standstill. Right in front of her was a smudged patch of dirt and one... no two, it was _two... _two sets of footprints.

This was the same strait as the beginning, the same strait where she ran into Jareth before falling down on one knee. Sarah had taken two turns only to end up where she just was. And, with a clarity that was suddenly striking, she realized something.

Jareth wasn't playing at anything. He was playing _her._

And it wasn't even this most recent childish trick of sending her backwards, or the maze rearranging itself that told her so. Not even that eerie glass box or his mind-reading trick were as bad as she had been anticipating, though maybe the invasion of privacy was something that still made her burn inside. But sabotage? What sabotage?

Desperate to find one, Sarah lifted her right hand as she began to tick off the ways, folding a finger for each one she thought of, that this run was no harder than her first one:

There had been a dwarf at the gate but she had shaken him easily enough—there hadn't been any sign of him since. _One._

The friendly worm she had encountered during her first run was missing, though she was sure that she had to have passed that cubby of his and his missus's. _Two._

There were no confusing turns, but, rather, long straits that seemed to never end. _Three._

She hadn't come across any riddles or traps. _Four._

In fact, apart from the labyrinth's gatekeeper and the Goblin King himself, she hadn't met any other creatures of the labyrinth. No one to try to stop her or stall her or convince her to go back to the start. She was alone. _Five._

Sarah dropped her folded fist, a twisting sensation beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach. A mixture of unease and defiance, the feeling gnawed away at her until she found she didn't want to think about such things anymore. Five examples were more than enough for her and though she suspected she could find more if she thought about it, she didn't want to.

Because that was just another _why_: Why was she all alone? It was something she hadn't noticed at first but, now that she had, the continued silence and loneliness were striking differences from the last time when she made a, if not friend at first, a guide of Hoggle. It was eerie and, ever since Jareth disappeared on her again, it was like she was the only living creature in the labyrinth.

She shivered.

Of course, considering the relative ease in which she should be able to tackle this altered labyrinth, Sarah hadn't done herself any favors so far. She couldn't really explain it but her watch didn't lie—she'd wasted more than two hours already and she was still so far from the castle. It was there, always in the distance, mocking her, but it hadn't gotten any closer no matter how far or how quick she ran.

When Sarah made her reckless wish, it had been close to five o'clock. Glancing down at her watch, she saw that it read 7:30, which left her only seven and a half hours left. She gave her head a clearing shake, refused to think of the Goblin King any more—because, she figured, if she didn't think of him, maybe he would just leave her alone—and started defiantly down the same strait she'd already taken. When she came upon that same left turn, she refused to take it; she wouldn't fall for that trap again. A turn came up on her right, but she waltzed right past it. He wanted to show her narrow straits? Well, fine. She'd take them for now.

_You have no power over me..._ if only. She could pretend as much as she wanted to, clinging to those five words that saved her when she was a child, but deep down, even she knew something was wrong. Whey else were her defenses susceptible to his advances, slipping away in order to allow him inside her head? Why else had the nightmares started back in July? Something had changed. She just didn't know _what_.

Change... so focused on what she was doing, Sarah was oblivious to the little changes that were taking place around her. The labyrinth seemed to come alive around her, shifting under her every step. The dirt and rocks slowly began to give way to grass; tiny weeds, then blossoming flowers appeared all around her. Before long the rocky outer layer of the labyrinth became a manicured green hedge, lively and bright. Taking the straits had been the best plan. She was finally making progress.

When she did notice, she found she really didn't care. She couldn't, not when she was already so frustrated with herself.

Sarah had vowed that she wouldn't take anything for granted once she started her second run Underground. And, for awhile, she didn't think that she had. She was wrong. Not only had she taken it for granted that the Goblin King would do everything in his power to stop her, to best her, to defeat her where he had failed those three years ago, but she'd also taken it for granted that she would do everything in _her _power to win again, to finally have the freedom to forget. But Jareth was willing to sit back and let Sarah make her own mistakes and, what was so frustrating was that she _was._

But not any longer. Sarah snorted under her breath, swinging her arms at her side as she kept moving, only taking the turns she thought might bring her closer to the castle. "I'm on to you," she muttered under her breath, almost wishing that, wherever Jareth was, he could hear her. "You won't beat me so easily."

And, to a degree, she actually believed herself when she said it.

* * *

Jareth's smile was a forgotten memory; it was replaced by lips drawn in a thin line, a furrowed brow and an angry roll of his shoulders. With his left hand, he cracked his scepter against the arm of his throne. With his right, he tightened his grip on his crystal. He wasn't happy.

In fact, he was tempted to take his crystal and maybe throw it to the floor, taking satisfaction when it shattered; scattered shards on the tile would suit him far better than the image he was currently watching. Besides, he could always easily conjure another crystal if he gave in to his childish impulses but, for that reason, he pointedly kept his temper in check. He had nearly ten centuries on Sarah Williams—he refused to be reduced to acting like a child because of her.

This wasn't what was supposed to happen. The rearranging of the labyrinth wasn't supposed to help her win—after she got shifted back, he expected her to try again, take the same turns, make the same mistakes. She wasn't supposed to figure it out. She certainly wasn't supposed to break into the next layer of his elaborate labyrinth. And Sarah wasn't supposed to do it with a defiant tilt of her head and a muttered challenge.

Jareth scowled as he palmed the crystal, but he didn't throw it away. He wished he hadn't removed the spell from Sarah, thought it had been a generous gesture on his part. She wanted him out of his head so he left... all too soon, it seemed. Though the girl had once prided herself on being an actress, he could ready every one of her expressions. When she stopped and recognized the simple trick of the walls moving behind her, that wasn't the only thing she realized.

And, because he had removed the mind reading spell, he could only guess what that was—until Sarah issued her challenge and he understood. _She still wants to win. _Jareth let out an aggravated huff before tossing the crystal up into the air and leaving it there; it was a soft toss and the crystal remained hovering about a foot and a half above him. Just then, he didn't want to see anymore.

He stood up from his throne, tapping anxious fingers against his breeches, shaking his head. _Honestly, my dear, I tried to help you. I did it all for you. You needed to lose on your own, it would be far better than if I actually defeated you. If it was your failure, the Underground was your penalty. You would have to give it a chance... give _me _a chance. And yet, despite my generosities, you keep on insisting on fighting me. Well, two can play that game, I see._

There was a steely glint in his eyes, a fierceness that echoed the hunger he felt. If only Sarah could've seen him looking the way he did, there would've been no doubt that, all along, the Goblin King had been humoring her. But the game had changed now. So she _wanted_ to win? Fine. That just meant that he would make her work hard for her freedom before he snatched it right out from under her.

His cold and emotionless expression cracked; a cruel grin found its way back. He was truly intimidating. And the poor thing had no idea what she was up against. Oh, she suspected, and most of what she feared was a combination of the her old stories and the nightmares she made up herself, but the danger radiated off the fae in waves. This contest wasn't just a matter of pride and a silly, insignificant prize. This was a matter of Jareth taking what he thought belonged to him. He wouldn't let her win.

The reason was simple enough, really: while there was plenty that Sarah didn't know, plenty that he kept from her, there was one thing in particular that he refused to tell her. Because, if she _did _know, there was no way the girl would be wasting all of her fire and energy running _towards _the castle.

Jareth couldn't let her win because she had already lost.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Here's the next chapter. I definitely meant to have this out way before today but I got stumped. Before I hit the next plot arc in this (I still have seven and a half hours to get through, woot), I wanted to just set up where both of our characters are at, mentally and physically, before it starts. These two… so stubborn ;) Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if Sarah realized that the reason she pushes against him is because she is really attracted to him. And Jareth? When will he learn? A simple I Love You gets a man real far but does he do that? Nope. Ah well. That's why we have fun in fan fiction, eh? Enjoy.

**eta**: 06.09.11 - updated!


	12. Part Twelve: A kink in the plan

Author's Note: _And here's the next chapter. I've been meaning to get this part of the plot for the past few chapters. Of course, this is definitely a cliffhanger on both the Sarah end and the Jareth end but, hey, cliffhangers are fun? At least for me. Anywho, let me know what you guys think. Oh, and I wanted to say one thing. I saw how a bunch of you guys picked up on the last line of chapter eleven. It is _very _significant but, of course, I'm not going to be able to explain that for quite awhile. :)_

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

--

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

It's been three years since Sarah thought she left the Labyrinth but,  
as she's learning now, she's never truly been gone.

--

PART TWELVE  
_I dare to enter your ecstasy…_

--

It was hard for Sarah to pinpoint exactly when everything around her seemed… _different._ She was trying so hard to take everything in and, at the same time, not take anything for granted while doing so that she missed something as big as the labyrinth beginning to change.

It started with a few small changes. The dirt floor gave way to soft grass. The dry air became moist as a simple drizzle began to fall. The rocky outer walls had been traded for lush hedges.

While she noticed that her environment was different, Sarah did not think anything of it. She believed that the reasoning behind the changes was simple: she was making progress and, therefore, had entered into another part of the labyrinth. She congratulated herself on the time she was making up and continued to hurry ahead.

But the healthier surroundings did not last long. By the time Sarah approached the end of her third hour, the grass was still there – but it was hard and brown and crunchy. The faint rain had stopped almost as quickly as it had started; the air was now so dry that it made her mouth ache out of thirst. But she pressed on.

_I've just made it to another part of the labyrinth, that's all_, she told herself.

When the hedges became brittle and bare, with no sign of the vegetation that had covered the branches only a few yards back, she ignored it, shaking her head. _Wow, I must have taken a really different path than last time. I don't remember this at all._

However, when, after taking another turn, Sarah found herself facing a vanity very similar to that of her own. There was a mirror and a desk and a stool… just like hers. There was nothing cluttered on top of this desktop and the corner was not missing like the one in her room, but still.

The vanity was either too wide or the newest strait she had found herself in was too narrow because, as she approached it, she saw that there was no way around it.

There was something about the vanity that made Sarah nervous. It reminded her of her first time in the labyrinth and the way that Jareth had used her true belongings to convince her that she had left the Underground. It had been a dirty trick on his part; while Sarah sat in her room, resting and trying to dispel the memories of the labyrinth from her mind, Jareth watched, amused, as the minute hand on his fabulous clock continued to move.

It was only when she found herself sitting at her vanity that she remembered the task she had undertaken. Toby had been held captive by the despicable Goblin King; he had tricked her using the very objects that made her feel secure: her bedroom, her vanity, her music box…

And now, on an unexpected rerun of the dreaded labyrinth, Sarah found herself facing off with that same vanity.

A thought just popped into Sarah's head; her feet remained planted to the dead grass as she stared at the vanity. _Could it be that same one that perished in the junk heap? Did Jareth recover it after the illusion shattered?_

Sarah was not sure exactly what it was doing there, or what Jareth's purpose was for putting it there but she knew one thing: she was not getting next to it if she could help it.

She shook her head at the obviousness of Jareth's tricks before turning around. She was going to back out of that turn and take another one.

There was one small problem with that. When Sarah spun around, she found that the walls had changed again; the turn that had been there was no longer there. She was trapped. Her only way out was past the vanity.

_Figures._

--

Jareth was, once again, lounging in his throne. His crystal had remained hovering above him; he was not preoccupied with staring into its depths at the moment. He was too busy trying to come up with the perfect idea to stall Sarah. He had wasted most of his best tricks – the Cleaners, the oubliette, the false alarms – during her first run of the labyrinth. He had never expected that Sarah would find herself traveling through the maze a second time. If he would have known that, he would have been better prepared.

The glass coffin had been a flash of inspiration that waylaid her long enough and upset her even more. The trick of getting inside of her head and listening in to her very thoughts came to him almost as soon as she got past him at the gate. He had assumed he would not need any other tricks this time.

But she had surprised him… _again. _She was not giving up without a fight and now… now it was up to Jareth to play for keeps. He was not going to let her continue on with her illusion that she would win. It was time to show her what she was up against.

There was only one problem. He could not think of anything that he could do to her that would not break her. Jareth wanted a whole Queen, after all.

He was tapping his gloved fingers along the side of his throne. "I could disguise myself as that dwarf again and offer my services. Perhaps she would accept a second enchanted peach…" He shook his head. "No. Sarah is too bright for that. She would never willingly accept anything from someone that was not a friend."

"Friend…" Jareth lifted his hand up and began to caress his chin instead. "A friend… Perhaps I could send out one of those fools who accompanied her during her first run. I'm sure they would be more than happy to help me if it means that their precious Sarah would remain in the labyrinth with them."

He thought about it for a moment. What other choice did he have, really? Sarah was accustomed to most of his tricks and, even the tricks that she was not familiar with, she was able to thwart them. If he wanted to win fairly – well, fairly to his mind; the Goblin King had a very different idea what fair meant – he needed to resort to more underhanded means. And, what better way to stall the girl than with the pretense of help? She would never expect one of her old pals of deceit.

His wicked grin was back. "Yes. I think that plan will do nicely."

Jareth tilted his head back and lifted his hand up, reaching for the neglected crystal. It was his intent to check up on Sarah and find out exactly where she was in the labyrinth; depending on her present location would dictate which of her previous companions he would send out to her.

If she was in the rocky outer area, it would be best to send that guard dwarf that she was fond of. As much as Jareth was indifferent to his lesser subjects – as Goblin King, his only duty was to the goblins; the other creatures belonged to the labyrinth; he was just their liege – he had to admit that Hoggle knew much of the labyrinth. If he was able to convince the dwarf to join his side in getting Sarah to remain Underground, he knew Hoggle could take Sarah close enough to the Castle without letting her arrive before the time limit ran out.

If she had gotten farther than that (which was unlikely; last time he checked she was still in the outer layers), he would dispatch that big, hairy beast. While not intelligent by any means, the beast would serve as a bodyguard almost. Midway through the labyrinth, regardless of which path Sarah took, she would reach the Firey's Forest. And, despite the goblin's assurance that the Firey's would take great care with her pretty little head, Jareth would rest easier knowing that she was safer.

This point of this run of hers, whatever Sarah believed, was not to harm her in any way. It was to show Sarah that she belonged to him and, therefore, would be his. It would be quite difficult, Jareth knew, to make her his Queen should any harm befall her.

And, of course, if she had (by some miracle) made it past the Firey's without any help, the knight would help to serve her. If only because, by the time she arrived to the castle (if she did), she would be grateful to seek him out. It was quite difficult to deal with Didymus for an extended period of time. And if Jareth could convince Sir Didymus to speak of his merits, maybe he could share them with Sarah.

Not that such a plan would be necessarily. Jareth did not think that Sarah would get past the rocky outer layer of the labyrinth on her own.

This, of course, caused him great alarm when he summoned his crystal and saw, through its glass, that Sarah had already gone much further than he expected. She had far surpassed his expectations. He had underestimated her.

Normally, such a realization would ignite the cold fury that was his temper. But he was able to look past his own fault for the moment when he saw something else. Unlike Sarah who, despite her trying to take everything at face value and _not _take everything for granted, Jareth saw that something was wrong at once.

The grass had lost its healthy sheen and was wilted. The flowers had all died. The hedged edge, the beginning of the second layer of the labyrinth, was entirely bare.

_Something must be working against the magick. I don't understand it. _

In all his time as monarch of the Goblin Kingdom Jareth had never seen anything like that – at least, not when he was not the one doing it. Every now and then someone would take on the labyrinth and, due to the magick inherent to the maze that formed it due to a challenger's expectations, the labyrinth would morph its shape. But Jareth, as in tune as he was with the mystical structure, would know that that was the cause.

He had no knowledge as to what the cause was this time.

Jareth was just about to transport out into the center of the labyrinth – the heart that was the source of its magick – when someone came barreling in through the door. It was that same goblin that he had entrusted with the task of setting up the glass coffin.

The ugly creature was running so quickly across the room to reach his King that he was almost on all fours. He was panting heavily; whatever he had come to say, it was of great importance.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jareth asked, his voice low and menacing. He had given express orders that no one was to disturb him as soon as he knew that Sarah was inside of the labyrinth unless he called for them.

The goblin stopped a few feet away from where Jareth was now standing, his arms crossed over his chest. He glanced up at the impressive monarch and whimpered once before throwing himself down flat onto the floor. "I am so sorry, your majesty."

Jareth walked over to the sniveling goblin and toed him with one of his boots. "Get up."

"Of course, your majesty." He climbed up, getting to his feet, though he left his head down. He was afraid to look Jareth in the eye.

The Goblin King, however, was not in the mood for fearful subjects at the moment. Sarah was even further than he had imagined she would ever get and the labyrinth was failing. Either the news that this goblin had had better explain what was going on or he would be dipped into the Bog of Eternal Stench before he could blink. "Well. What is it?"

The goblin took in a deep breath and then began to speak as fast as he could, eager to give the King his message. "Your majesty, I never would have barged in if it was not important but your father is here. He wants to speak to you. The Lord says that it is urgent. He told me to come retrieve you at once, sir."

_Ahh, I understand it now. So _that _is why magick is being undone…_


	13. Part Thirteen: An option or three

Author's Note: _And here's the next chapter – and only three days after I posted twelve chapters. To be honest, I did not plan on putting out the next chapter for a bit – what with NaNoWriMo going strong and all – but I wanted to continue on with this plot arc. Also, I will admit, my first idea was to psych you guys out; I was going to mention Jareth's father but actually not introduce him. However, people seemed interested in his Daddy so I reworked this part. I guess now is a good time to say that I actually do take the reviews into consideration so, if you have any questions/comments/concerns/suggestions, feel free to leave them and I will address them. I want you guys to enjoy this story as much as possible. Woot – enjoy! (And I know this is shorter than normal. Consider this a freebie chapter for being awesome readers/reviewers. More reviews equal quicker updates, as always. And the idea of the Council and Lord Corrigan are blatantly ripped of from my other story. :P) _

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

--

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you… _

It's been three years since Sarah thought she left the Labyrinth but,  
as she's learning now, she's never truly been gone.

--

PART THIRTEEN  
_Lay yourself now down to sleep… _

--

Jareth cleared his throat. The sound was enough to cause the goblin to jump a few inches off of the ground in surprise. Jareth tried not to notice; he was already annoyed enough that the creature had interrupted him with less than pleasant news. "When did my father arrive at the castle?"

There was something so deadly serious about the tone of voice that the Goblin King had adopted that the servant, who had been visibly frightened since he barged into the throne room, was shaking like mad. "Not more than a few minutes ago, your majesty. He arrived right outside of the door to your dream room. But we had a three goblin guard watching the door, just as you wanted. The Lord desired to see you but we told him that he would have to wait. He agreed and went to wait in your chambers. I came for you as soon as I could."

The goblin threw himself back to the floor of the throne room. Jareth did not waste his breathe this time telling the creature to stand. He had much more to worry about just then.

_Father… _

"Does he know that I am quite preoccupied at the moment?"

Despite his twisted face being pressed against the floor, the goblin attempted to speak. He sounded muffled; Jareth could not make out any of what he said.

He sighed in annoyance. This was not what he had in mind when he put his plan into motion. As it was, he had only had precious few minutes to engage his plot after Sarah unexpectedly wished herself away. He could not afford intrusions at this stage of the game.

Using the toe of his leather boot, Jareth nudged the goblin onto his back. "Would you like to try that again?"

"The boys and I tried to explain that you were busy but he said that it did not matter to him. He said he needed to see you and you would do well to remember that as your father, he was your liege." The goblin cringed as he finished telling Jareth the message from his father. Lord Corrigan was an impressive man, much more so than his son. In fact, it was only his loyalty to the Goblin King that sent the goblin into Jareth's throne room; otherwise he would have just let the Lord in through the door when he demanded entry.

_Isn't it just like my father to lord himself over me as if I were a mere three centuries, _Jareth thought to himself as he folded his hands behind his back.

The way he saw it, Jareth knew that he had three options:

One_. I can leave Sarah to her own devices for the next hour or so and lull her into a false sense of security when she covers a great deal of the labyrinth in the short time that I am away. I can meet with Father and discover why he left the sanctity of the Council in order to visit the Goblin City. When the meeting is complete, I can return to check in with Sarah. By then, I am confident, I shall have some other trick to slow her down. _

Two. _I can ignore my father's demand that I see him until the ten hour time limit is complete. As head of the Underground Sidhe Council, he should understand the importance of a mortal running the labyrinth. As he constantly reminded me when I first took over the rule of the Goblin Kingdom, it is the unfortunate and tedious duty of the King to work with the labyrinth whenever a foolish mortal called to him. If I send this idiot creature to him to explain that I am within seven hours of winning something of great importance from a mortal, I believe Father will understand. _

Even in his mind, Jareth snorted. He doubted that his father had ever understood anything that went against something he wished.

Three. _I can invite Father into the room with me. I can speak with him about whatever it is he needs and, at the same time, I can get him to stop cutting in on the labyrinth's magick. _

Before Jareth could decide on what to do, he thought it might be prudent to take another look at Sarah's progress within the labyrinth. The last time he had seen her, he had noticed the extent in which she had traveled (more than he had expected) as well as the amount of magickal decay that the labyrinth had undergone in between the last two times he had peered into his crystal (understandable now that he knew his father had made an appearance within the castle.)

He waved his hands back and forth; on the third wave, with his right hand outstretched with the palm facing up, the crystal was resting atop of it. Jareth lifted it up with the tips of the fingers on his left hand and raised it to his eyes. "Show me the girl."

Strangely enough, when he peered into the glass, he could see that Sarah had not gotten much further in comparison to where he had last seen her. The labyrinth was still fading and dying around her; he could still see the wilted grass, the bare hedge.

_Wait… What's that? _

Sarah was staring defiantly at something just beyond the scope of the crystal. He rotated it and, though Sarah fell out of the image, he could see what she was staring at: an old vanity.

_Sarah_'s old vanity.

_Sarah_'s old vanity that he had expressly brought to his castle from the junk lady's yard.

_Sarah_'s old vanity that he had expressly brought to his castle from the junk lady's yard so that he could use it to reinforce his scrying spells on his crystals; the same exact scrying spells that he had used to watch Sarah for the past three years.

_How did it escape my castle? And what is it doing in the labyrinth? _

The answer, of course, was simple – even if, in his continued annoyance, Jareth did not want to admit it. The vanity had found its way to the labyrinth the same was that the labyrinth was faltering: Jareth's spell was failing. Instead of the magick holding the girl inside the labyrinth, it was almost pushing her out.

The labyrinth, the great maze so full of ancient magick, had a code to hold true to. While the structure believes that it is fair to try to trick any challenger into failing through built in traps, it is only fair if that challenger is aware of the challenge. Sarah definitely was aware of the challenge – but this was not the challenge inherent to the labyrinth. This was Jareth's specific challenge and, while Lord Corrigan was pulling on the magick (in an attempt to force Jareth to face him right then), the magick Jareth had cast was disintegrating. The labyrinth was attempting to free Sarah.

_Would she take her freedom if the labyrinth offered it to her? Or will she deny it? _

Jareth did not want to chance leaving the decision up to Sarah. He needed to reinforce the magick and call back the vanity before Sarah got too close to see the reflection hidden within the depths of the enchanted glass. At the same time, he needed to decide just what to do about his father. Both matters were equally pressing and definitely interwoven.

He resisted the urge to smash this crystal as he wanted to do with the last one. It had all seemed so simple when he concocted his plan. Everything had become too complicated too fast, though.

"Your majesty…" squeaked the goblin. He had rolled over on his front and was currently kneeling before Jareth.

"The Lord is waiting," he reminded the King before ducking his head within his spindly arms. He was well aware of the punishment for a servant that spoke out of turn. Just because the Goblin King was not holding his scepter in his hands did not mean he would not conjure it with the intent of cracking it over his head.

Surprisingly, and most unlike him, Jareth did not retaliate for the creature's insolence. He was quite right, after all; and, with his interruption, the goblin had inadvertently provided the solution to Jareth's dilemma.

_I have to rebuild the magick – the only way to do that is to stop the interruption of the magickal flow. I have to confront Father. _

While it was not the ideal solution – Jareth could already imagine the look of surprise and scorn that would cross his stern father's face when he learned that all of his work had been for that 'blasted mortal girl' – it was the only solution that he could choose. With every passing second that the Goblin King refused his father's visit, Lord Corrigan was siphoning the amount of magick that his son was using with conjunction with the labyrinth.

He narrowed his eyes back on the crystal in his hand. Sarah was just about to reach for the vanity. He had to get rid of the enchanted piece of furniture before the girl figured out that was what it really was.

Snapping the gloved fingers of his right hand, Jareth caused the crystal to disappear. He shook his arms, straightening his clothes before setting his face straight. Any of the annoyance that had twisted his face as he spied on Sarah was erased as he adopted the expressionless mask; the façade was the only acceptable front to present to his father.

"Let him in," he ordered. "Tell my father I will see him now. Bring him to the room as soon as you can."

Listening to his King, the goblin drew himself up off of his knees and rose to his feet. He was running out of the throne room, off to retrieve Lord Corrigan, before Jareth could even second guess his own decision.

Jareth flicked his head to the side, settling his wild blond hair as he waited for his father's arrival. Though he never would admit it, he was just a smidge nervous. This was his _father_, after all. And a visit from the High Lord of the Sidhe Council – even if it was the man who gave him life – was never good.

_First Sarah's abrupt appearance within my Kingdom, now Father. The labyrinth is falling to pieces around me and my belongings are betraying me by returning to their previous master. Sarah has not given up yet and only seven hours remain. _

_Nothing is going the way that I planned… _

_I think I might actually have to try a bit harder. _

_Such a pity. _


	14. Part Fourteen: A complication

Author's Note: _And, after a bit of time, here is the next chapter. We get to meet Jareth's dad in here, as well as learn the meaning behind his appearance. And, of course, cause some more trouble with Sarah. But, hey, at least I made up for the update-less time with some big going-ons in the story. I hope you enjoy, and new chapter should be up fairly soon._

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

--

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

It's been three years since Sarah thought she left the Labyrinth but,  
as she's learning now, she's never truly been gone.

--

PART FOURTEEN  
_In my dreams you're mine to keep..._

--

Before Lord Corrigan joined his son in Jareth's throne room, Jareth decided to resume his indifferent pose while resting in his throne. If anything, the position would serve to prove to his father that he was neither intimidated by his presence nor showing respect for the Lord's intrusion during his affairs. He accentuated the blasé façade by lifting his glove-adorned hand and resting his chin within his palm, while his elbow settled on the throne's arm.

Despite his aloof demeanor, Jareth was more than a little interested as to his father's unexpected visit within the castle. It had been decades – centuries, even – since the last time Corrigan had forsaken his own palace in order to arrive, unannounced, within the Goblin City walls. As the overlord of the Sidhe Council, Corrigan had precious few moments with which to visit his second born son. For the most part, he left the running of the labyrinth, and the rule of the goblins, to Jareth without any interference.

_But why, then, is Father here today? _

Jareth had an inkling as to what his father's presence meant; it would be too coincidental if, on the day that he finally had Sarah Williams within his grasp, his father chose to visit him without any purpose.

As the Goblin King sat, perched royally in the crystalline throne, waiting for his father to arrive in the room, he could not help but notice that passage of time. He had assumed that, once he sent his goblin servant out to retrieve his father, that his father's grand entrance into the room would be immediate. Yet, time seemed to drag and his father still had not yet arrived.

Jareth's fingers itched to conjure a crystal back. With the Lord still waiting outside of the room, his pull on the magick continued; the vanity would still be there, offering Sarah passage out of the labyrinth. Was it possible that, after all the work and time that he put into this second chance, an unexpected intrusion – by way of his father arriving as the labyrinth clock ran – could cause his intricate plan to fail?

He could not let that happen. Quickly, in case his father appeared and questioned his scrying, Jareth waved his left hand until the glass ball materialized in between his waiting fingers. "Show me the girl," he commanded, a bit apprehensive as to what he would see.

His suspicion was justified when Sarah's image appeared within the crystal's depth. She was no longer standing apart from the vanity. Instead, she was cautiously approaching it; she was close enough to the structure that he could view both Sarah and the vanity within the same scene.

From the expression that twisted her beautiful features, Jareth could see that she was hesitant to go passed the vanity. Though she had gotten too close to the exit for his liking, he allowed himself a wry smile. Sarah had no idea as to why she did not want to go near the vanity, but Jareth did – deep down, Sarah did not want to leave the labyrinth.

However, just because she innately wanted to remain, despite her outward display of rejection towards his (unsaid) proposal, it did not mean that she could resist the lure of the vanity's reflection. Sarah, he knew, was curious by nature and such a sight, much like the glass coffin, would compel her to explore further – and he could not have that.

But what could he do? With his father's entrance into the room imminent, he could not just disappear to the labyrinth and take care of the problem personally. With Sarah stepping ever closer to the vanity, he did not have time to come up with a plan. And, as the magick continued to fail, he could not wish the vanity away.

Not for the first time did Jareth curse Sarah's brashness and stubbornness. If only the girl had given in when he first appealed to her dreams, he would not be in this predicament; if only the girl had not taken it upon herself to wish herself away to a second run of the labyrinth, where her very life (either mortal or immortal) was the prize.

His cold mask seemed to break under the realization that, in the cavalier manner with which he regarded Sarah's challenge, he had allowed himself to lose control over Sarah. His eyes narrowed onto the reflective glass of his crystal and he was incensed to see that Sarah was at the vanity already, peering readily into the mirror. She seemed transfixed by whatever it was she was seeing; her hand was outstretched as if she meant to touch the glass.

Jareth lifted his head from his hand and waving his right hand carelessly (though with intent), the elaborate clock with only ten digits gracing the face appeared before him. He began to rotate his hand, his pointer and middle finger extended. With the motion of his hand, the minute hand on the clock began to move. Where before there had been a little less than seven hours remaining in Sarah's generous ten hour limit, by the time he stopped the movement of his hand there were five hours left.

_There. If that does not get Sarah's attention, I don't know what will._

--

Sarah was not sure what she should do. The very idea that the structure blocking her path was the same exact vanity that Jareth had tried to trick her with three years ago upset her – it bothered her in a way that she could not describe that he had recovered it when the Junk Lady's spell had failed. Was it because it seemed like a gesture done by a man (or fae, as it were) interested in retaining her possession? Or, was it because the Goblin King knew that she would return to the Underground one day, and, as such, the vanity could be used against her a second time?

She shook her head, causing her long brown ponytail to sway with the motion until it rested on her shoulder. _It doesn't matter, really. All I have to do is squeeze my butt through the little space between the vanity and the labyrinth. Then, once I've gotten past it, it's behind me and I don't have to worry about it._

With that plan in mind, she decided just to move forward and get around the vanity. She had the sinking suspicion that the appearance of her old vanity in the middle of the labyrinth was nothing more than another of Jareth's tricks to stall her and cause her to waste time. And, like the child she had been the last time she went up against the Goblin King, she was falling for his every treachery.

Rather than let her green eyes fall on the piece of furniture, Sarah looked past the vanity. She looked forward, her eyes searching out the next turn in the labyrinth. With her time slipping by her, she could not afford to waste time on anything but making her way out of the maze.

But Sarah's own curiosity got the better of her and, just as she was about to sidle pass the vanity, the glimmer of the mirror caught her attention. She paused and moved in front of it, her aim to get a glimpse of her reflection. Though not a vain girl by any means, Sarah was still a girl and wanted to check on her appearance.

However, as simple as her intent was, the result was not so simple. When she peered into the reflective glass, she saw herself – but it was not her reflection.

What Sarah saw in the glass was her own bedroom. Even if all she saw was the walls and the floor, she would recognize her room.

But it was not all that was present in the image. There, off to the right, was her bed and, on her bed, lay a sleeping form.

In the mirror's glass, Sarah saw herself sleeping.

Whatever it was that her mirror twin was dreaming, it must not be pleasant. Her chest was heaving and, while her eyes were closed, her mouth was slightly open and there were wrinkles in her forehead. Mirror-Sarah's hand was rising slightly off of her comforter, her palm facing outward, as if she was warding something off.

So focused on what she was in the mirror, Sarah did not realize that she, too, was raising her hand up and towards the reflection.

Her hand was only inches away from the glass when she heard the gong ringing from a distance. The first gong brought her out of her trance as she tore her gaze away from the mirror. The second gong sounded and Sarah dropped her hand. The third gong ran and she glanced down at her watch. When the fourth gong erupted, she was confused. According to her watch, she should still have six hours and forty minutes left. That's when the fifth gong broke and Sarah dropped her hand, again, but with force.

"That's not fair," she said, loudly, without even realizing that was what she said.

According to the five gongs, Jareth had cheated her out of nearly two hours.

Her time was half up and she was no closer to his castle.

--

The door to his throne room opened with such force that the booming of the doors crashing inward stole Jareth's attention from both the labyrinth clock and his crystal baring Sarah's furious image. He did not have the opportunity to see how the girl reacted to his forwarding of time because, as soon as he viewed his father striding toward him, he caused the crystal to vanish. As soon as the crystal was gone, he turned his attention towards the clock. With another wave, it too was gone.

"Jareth, King. Do you not stand to greet your father?"

The Goblin King had wanted to remain in his throne, cool and uninterested, when his father finally entered the room. However, the Lord's presence coupled with his commanding tone demanded that Jareth rise to his feet. King or not, this man was his father – if he wanted respect, Jareth would have to give it him.

"Greetings, my Lord. And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Lord Corrigan was an impressive man. Nearly a head taller than his son, his lithe frame made him appear to tower even higher. His long white hair, down to the mid of his back, was pulled back with a black strap, though two thick strands – one on each side of his long face – had fallen loose of its hold. His mouth was thin and stern, his nose long and pointy. His eyes, however, were his most alluring feature; a frosty grey color, they marked him as one of the Ancients.

Jareth had long stopped wondering just how old his father truly was. He could never get a straight answer out of him and, as he himself was approaching the end of his first millennia, he stopped wondering. There, too, would come the time when his age would be naught but a memory; it would not surprise him to learn that his father had forgotten just how long he had been alive.

His father's mouth, though it normally was set in a manner that betrayed whatever it was that he was thinking, curved slightly. "I see that your goblin was telling the truth. You are in the midst of a running of the labyrinth." He paused and gestured for his son to resume his seat in the throne as he continued to walk towards him. "And, from what I can see, you are eager for it to end. Why else would you be pushing time forward?"

Jareth sat down and bowed his head in respect. "Of course, my Lord. Such is the way of the labyrinth."

"Mm," Lord Corrigan replied, his answer not saying much at all. He paused when he was a few feet in front of his son's throne, folding his hands behind his back. Jareth, as he lifted his head up – he had paid the proper respects to his father; he could now treat him as his father rather than the head of the Council – could see, despite his father's airy tone, that he had, indeed, come to the Goblin City with a purpose. The steely look, causing his eyes to appear as hard as metal,

"Jareth, King," he began, adopting a formal tone, "In seven years from this point in time, you will reach the anniversary of one millennia since your mother, Lady Aldria, gave birth to you and brought you forth in existence. As is custom with our people, you must be wed by the eve of that day."

His father paused but Jareth, the recipient of many such speeches in his time – prior to this, the speech when he was told that it was his duty to be Goblin King was the most formal he had heard from his father – knew better than to speak. It was expected of him just to nod and accept what his father came to tell him. Besides, it was not as if he was expected to get married right away; there was still a bit of time left.

Jareth nodded.

"And, Jareth, King, second son of Corrigan and Aldria, should you not find a suitable bride prior to that date, you shall be wed to a noble of the Council's choosing." His father bowed his head once before meeting Jareth's gaze again. "Do you understand?"

Jareth nodded again.

He was not nervous. He planned on taking Sarah's hand in marriage – suitable bride or not – far before his father's deadline had arrived.


	15. Part Fifteen: An admission to his Lord

Author's Note: _And, here is the next chapter. It's getting much more intense and this chapter ups the stakes a bit. It's interesting, though – I thought I knew where I was going with this but, after this chapter, I might go off in a separate direction. One way is a happy (and prolonged ending, including a sequel) and the other is a not-so-happy ending. Just wondering, because I am open to either, as to what you guys think. I do want to thank the reviewers, you guys make me feel like I can actually write a Labyrinth story (this is my first real one and I'm still a bit hesitant on it) – it's because of your support that I continue this. So, thanks :) If you want to just tell me if you are in favor of a happy ending or a not-so-happy ending, I'd appreciate it. Woot._

_(PS, I did start another Labyrinth story: _Fourteen_, if you would like to check it out. Thanks!)_

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

--

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

It's been three years since Sarah thought she left the Labyrinth but,  
as she's learning now, she's never truly been gone.

--

PART FIFTEEN  
_Sleepwalker…_

--

Jareth waited for his father to drop the Royal demeanor and embrace him as his second-born son. But Corrigan remained standing before him, his hands clasped behind his back, his face set. He was not done. "Jareth, King, as the head of the Sidhe Council, your Lord has taken it upon himself to search out a bride for you. After much deliberation and consideration, such a bride has been chosen."

The younger Fae heard what his father said and wanted nothing more than to stand up and argue that point. But he could not. As his father was still addressing him as the Council's High Lord instead of as his father, Jareth was not permitted to interrupt his speech. It would be considered a great offense if he did.

"The Maiden Madrigal, daughter of Lord Julian and Lady Carina, has been selected to become your bride should you not discover your own by the end of the year. The seven year limit will still stand and you, Jareth, King, will have until the eve of your thousandth year to wed Maiden Madrigal." Corrigan paused and, again, bowed his head before daringly meeting his son's expressionless face. "Do you understand?"

Jareth nodded, with a bit more force than he should have. There was only one person in existence that intimidated him and it was the Ancient that stood before him at that very moment. He could not keep his emotions – his anger and his surprise – in check.

"Good," Corrigan said and brought his hands back in front of him. He kept them open as he walked forward to Jareth; when they were wide enough, he leaned in and gave his son an embrace. "How are you, Jareth? It's been some time." He drew back away from his son and grinned. He was glad to see his son.

Nearing a thousand years, Jareth was used to the rather quick way his father could shed his Royal persona and, in an instant, treat him like his son instead of a subject. Now that Corrigan no longer acted the part of Council overlord, Jareth took the opportunity to question his father's speech. "Everything is going well, Father, but, to be honest, I don't quite understand your visit. A bride? So soon?"

Corrigan scowled, and Jareth felt at ease. When he was younger, not more than a century or two, his father had never felt the need to act so formal around him; it was only when he learned that he was heir to the Goblin Throne, a position passed down through his mother's bloodline, that both his parents – well, not his mother so much; Aldria still coddled him – began to treat him as one of the Court. He learned much of his indifference and aloofness from early lessons with a Governess, reinforced by routine chats with Corrigan. However, despite the experience he had at dealing with the formal side of the Lord, he much preferred it when his father was personable.

"It was your mother's idea, I'm afraid. She is worried about you living in this Castle with nothing but servants and goblins to accompany you, and mortal wishes to occupy your time. She believes that a wife, someone to love and pamper you, would do you good," Corrigan answered, shaking his head. He sighed and turned his scowl into an humored expression, as if he remembered something that amused him. "Besides, she is so desperate to have grandchildren that she went to the Council behind my back and implored them that they agree to find you a bride. I had no choice but to agree when the motion was put forth in front of me. For some reason, the Council is convinced that you will not do the task on your own. They believe that you are intent on wooing and joining with some mortal child and making her your Queen," Corrigan said, throwing in a chuckle for good measure.

"And if I am?" Jareth asked royally, shaking his head. He was aware of the impertinent way in which he addressed the Fae but, despite his palace being located in the Goblin City, far away from the Center of the Underground, he was tired of the rumors swirling around Sarah. After she bested the labyrinth, many members of the Court, the Royal and Noble families of the Underground, found it interesting and amusing to poke fun at his ability to allow a mortal child to beat him at his own game.

And then, somehow, word had gotten out – and like much Court gossip, spread like wildfire – that he had become smitten with the mortal girl. None actually addressed him on the subject, save his older brother who did it in jest, but Court gossip always had a way of making itself known. Jareth ignored it, as he ignored much of the rumors, but he had to admit, it did strike a nerve. All he wanted was a second chance at the girl. It made him greatly uncomfortable that his inability to capture the girl was widely known.

The amused expression slid of Corrigan's long face. His eyes, which had gone back to their frosty color after the formality of his announcement was made, went dark and smoky. He stood erect, towering over his son, as he boomed out his response. "Then I say that it is a good thing that I am here. You are aware, my son, that I am doing everything in my power to intrude on your elaborate spell as we speak?"

_So that is why… _"Yes. And I would be much obliged if you would leave the magick be. The run of the labyrinth will be complete in five hours time and then I shall be the victor."

"And, what, may I ask, is the prize?"

Jareth's lips curved, almost predatorily. "Don't you know, Father? I think you do."

Corrigan scoffed. "It's nothing to do with that mortal girl, is it? I had heard the stories and thought it was just the mutterings of bored Nobles, with nothing more to discuss than the duties of the Goblin King. Jareth, my son, you do not actually have feelings for such a child?"

"I seem to recall, Father, that you joined with a child, yourself. Mother was not more than eight hundred years old when you were wed," Jareth replied. By Fae standards, his mother was quite young and, in comparison with an Ancient – Corrigan was considered such, even then – the union caused quite a stir at the time.

"And your mother is Fae, not mortal," Corrigan argued but, even as he spoke the words, he knew such an argument was easily reputed.

Jareth shook his head and waved one of his gloved hands. "You know as well as I do that that can be easily corrected. Once I have been joined with her, her mortality will begin to fade and immortality fills her. She will live as long as I do."

Corrigan had his next argument at the ready. "_If _you join with a mortal, she would absorb your longevity. She might even, in time, learn how to wield certain magick, but she would not be Fae. She would never be one of us, Jareth. She would be forever different. You would doom your mortal to an eternity of being an outcast?"

It was only then that Jareth realized that there had to be more to his father's visit besides the fact that his mother wanted to see him wed. It seemed that his father had a role in this to play as well, and more than the Council's messenger – his father was trying to convince him to give up on Sarah.

"Father, I understand the point you are trying to make but I will say this once, and once only, as I am not in the habit of spouting my emotions. Sarah… the mortal… she is mine. I have wanted her for nearly as long as I was aware of her presence and nearly had her once but I let her get away from me then and I do not plan on letting that happen again. No matter what I have to do to convince her to stay, be it trick or treachery. And I will always be there for her. I will not allow her to be an outcast."

Corrigan gestured around the throne room. "This is the lengths to which you will go, Jareth? Such magick? Don't you think your precious mortal will be angered when she learns that—"

Jareth narrowed his gaze on his father and, in a voice much quieter and much deadlier than he had ever taken with the Fae before him, he interrupted Corrigan. "Sarah will never learn what l have done to make her mine. She will finish this second run of the labyrinth and fail. In turn, she will freely give her will to me and that will be that." His frown was set. "She will become my Queen whether the Council likes it or not. As the High Lord, you came to me with a proposition: find my own bride or be forced to marry one of your choosing. I have found my bride. We will be joined together before your limit is spent. I only hope that you, as my father rather than my Lord, will be satisfied."

By the time he had finished speaking, though he had spoke each word slowly and deliberately, Jareth's chest was heaving underneath his loose-fitting shirt. This meeting with his father was the first time he had to outwardly defend his interest in Sarah Williams and, in doing so, he admitted a great deal more out loud than he had even said to himself.

He took a deep breath, composing himself, and, when he spoke again, the voice that resonated from him was closer to his normal voice. "Everything that I have done is for her. I do not want to lose her again but, your very presence here is jeopardizing all that I have worked for. You admit that you are intruding on my spell. Because of your interference, the labyrinth is trying to push Sarah back Aboveground. It is aware that her presence is not warranted by its rules and it is trying to correct the situation. It has even gone so far as to provide her with an exit, an exit that shows her the truth of this ruse."

"Which it should, Jareth. You can not assume that this girl, mortal or not, can be stolen away like this," Corrigan offered back. "My son, if this is the bride that you choose, I will do what I can to make the union blessed but I can not allow you to cheat so."

"This is the labyrinth, Father. Cheating is built into the rules."

For the third time, Corrigan bowed his head. However, the slight head gesture meant more to Jareth now then it did before. When his father acted the role of the High Lord of the Sidhe Council, the nod told him that it was his turn to enter the conversation; when he finished speaking, Corrigan would bow his head, giving the recipient of his decrees a chance to response.

This nod meant something entirely different. Coming from a father to his son, Corrigan was telling Jareth that he had followed his line of reasoning and, for the most part, was conceding. Jareth, who had lost that sense of ease when he and his father had started to discuss the matter of Sarah, wanted to breathe out a sigh of relief (but he did not). Apart from Sarah herself, Corrigan was the biggest obstacle to receiving the mortal girl as his bride.

"My Lord," Jareth began, switching back to the Court way of speak, "will you allow me this opportunity to receive the Maiden Sarah? If you release the hold you have on the magick, and allow me the use of your strength for the five hours remaining in the girl's run, I vow that she will be my bride by the time the year is out. If not, I will gladly join with your Maiden Madrigal."

_There. With such a proposition, Father will think that he has won. As my father, he will be giving his second son the chance to seek and win his own bride. As the High Lord of the Council, he is delivering their message and receiving my word that, should it come to it, I will marry Maddie. _

Jareth tried even harder than normal to keep an expressionless mask over his face. For one thing, if his father agreed, that gave him five hours of unparalleled magick with which he could use to seal Sarah's fate. For another, he appealed to his father's title, giving in to the wishes of the Council by agreeing to join with Madrigal if he is unable to win Sarah.

If he did not already desire Sarah more than anything, the mention of Lord Julian's only daughter would have only made him want to win the mortal more. Madrigal, while beautiful – as their kind were – was unbalanced and odd. She was nearly two centuries older than him yet no one had offered for her. Jareth was not surprised; while not as intimidating as his father, Madrigal, every time he met her, sent the hairs on his neck on edge. He would not be her unwilling mate for all time. It was bad enough that, as children, they were forced together due to the closeness of their parents. Jareth had always assumed that his older brother, Roane, would marry Madrigal, but he found his own bride before a betrothal could occur.

_Which is why I found my own, as well._ _Mortal or not, Sarah Williams will be my Queen._

Corrigan was silent for a moment as he processed Jareth's suggestion. Finally, he nodded and, raising his hand, snapped his fingers. Jareth felt the rush of power emitted from the Ancient Fae – more than he had ever expected – and relished the strength.

"Jareth, King, I have taken your words into quick consideration and have granted your request. You have until the labyrinth clock has sung its final chime to get your mortal child to become a citizen of the Underground. If she defeats you for a second time, I will seal her away from you and you shall wed Madrigal at the end of the year, instead. Not even your own magick will allow you to see the girl again. Do you understand?"

It sounded much more final spoken by Corrigan in his royal voice but, nevertheless, Jareth nodded.

"So let it be," Corrigan announced and, using the little power he retained, disappeared from the Goblin King's throne room.


	16. Part Sixteen: A trick up his sleeve

Author's Note: _And, here is the next chapter. I want to thank everyone who gave me their opinions on whether this should end happy or not. The suggestions were very helpful and I'm pretty sure that I know which course I will take. However this story, while simple in its conception, has seemed to grow over time. I didn't expect it to be this long when I started and we still have quite some ways to go. I just hope you guys enjoy it. Also, I'm well aware that this chapter ends on a cliffhanger (while most of mine do, this is kind of really obvious). Trust me… it's worth it. Next chapter will be interesting. And, as always, leave a review on what you think. The more feedback I get, the quicker I update (if that wasn't obvious already...). Woot. _

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

--

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

It's been three years since Sarah thought she left the Labyrinth but,  
as she's learning now, she's never truly been gone.

--

PART SIXTEEN  
_Sleepwalker…_

--

When Sarah heard the toll of the labyrinth clock ringing the close of her fifth hour – when she had only used just over three hours up until that point – her first instinct was to stamp her feet in annoyance. She wanted to holler out how unfair it was that Jareth had stole twenty percent of her time for no visible reason. She even wanted to, if he had been stupid enough – or smarmy enough – to gloat about his action, throttle the great Goblin King.

But she did not… she did not do any of those things. Sarah sighed, knowing that there was nothing she could do about it now – what was done was done. So, instead, she rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath, taking the time to rethink her course through the maze.

Comparing this second run to her first, Sarah tried to figure out how far she had gone (despite taking a different path). During her first run, there had been five parts to the labyrinth: the rocky outer layer, the garden hedge maze, the Forbidden Forest with the firey's, the Bog of Eternal Stench and, finally, the Goblin King's castle.

During her first run, she had spent considerable time in that first layer, what with the riddle of the doors, the helping hands and the oubliette. Then there had been a second meeting with the labyrinth's gatekeeper, Hoggle – who, in exchange for a set of plastic beads, offered his help to the girl – and, of course, an unexpected encounter with the Goblin King. Just like he had just done, Jareth had set time ahead before unleashing something that would show the girl exactly what he thought of her overconfidence. The Cleaners had been sent after her and Hoggle while they were under the labyrinth but they were able to (only just) escape the whirring blades of the mechanical death bringer.

There had been a ladder within the room the pair had found and that ladder brought them both back to the surface and right into the garden hedge of the maze. It was there that she had met the old wise man with the cranky hat – which, of course, had taken time that she did not have. Then there was the meeting of Ludo, a second set of doors (with talking knockers) and then the run-in with the firey's that lived in the Forbidden Forest.

She made it through that part of the labyrinth in the quickest time – she just ran right through the forest, with the crazed firey's on her tail. The Bog of Eternal Stench came next, where she had spent quite some time trying to convince Sir Didymus to let them cross his bridge (which actually broke mid-crossing for the girl).

Of course, Sarah remembered with a sad smile, the enchanted peach Jareth had given to Hoggle to offer to her, had cost her the most time. He had cheated then just as he was cheating now. She should have known better.

But, at least, Sarah had already made it into the beginning of the garden hedge maze without wasting any significant amount of time (except for the glass coffin – which she was trying not to remember). And she still had half her time left. It might not be as much as she would like – and it might come down to the wire – but she had done it before. She would do it again.

"Well, come on, feet," she said as she began to walk forward again. She was so preoccupied with her renewed sense of determination (as well as an inward sense of pride for not overreacting at Jareth's latest trick) that she did not even realize that, only moments before, she had been faced with her old vanity. It was gone now; the path was clear. And Sarah did not even think on it.

--

Jareth wasted no time in turning his attention back to Sarah once his father had left him alone. He did not even retake his position in his throne; instead, he lifted up an open palm and a crystal appeared. He did not even need to speak his desire out loud. Sarah was already visible within the transparent glass.

The Goblin King noticed straight away that the vanity had vanished. Without his father breaking in on the spell, there was sufficient magick to keep the labyrinth from offering Sarah a way out. _Good_, he though, a self-satisfied smirk curving his lips.

Sarah, he could see, did not seem flustered that he had advanced the clock nor that she had been faced with the vanity. Strangely, considering she had been running for some time now, she still seemed confidence. It was as if, no matter what he did, he could not shake her assurance that she would defeat him again.

There was a minute nagging at the back of his mind that _perhaps_ what he was doing was not quite the right thing, that _perhaps_, if he wanted to make Sarah his Queen, he should have been more honest with the girl, but he ignored it. It would not do well for him to develop a conscience all of a sudden.

So, rather that ponder on the rightness of what he was doing, Jareth decided to test the influx of power he head received from his father. Normally, the labyrinth, a powerful being in it's own right, alone had control of it's structure; it moved whither way it wanted of it's own accord, always trying to trick the runner. It had not escaped Jareth's notice that the labyrinth was deliberately being less deceiving than usual – that situation had to be remedied if he was going to ensure Sarah's failure.

His magick alone had never been enough to counter the labyrinth directly; he had only ever been able to encourage the maze to do its bidding without forcing it to. However, Lord Corrigan was an Ancient and, as such, his strength surely was sufficient to rival the maze (or, at least, that's what Jareth hoped).

With a flick of his wrist, he caused the crystal to vanish. The trivial magick that it took to create a scrying vessel would only irritate the stronger magick at work. He then outstretched both of his arms and called on the power. It began to well up at his fingertips, warmth spreading so quickly that, before he knew it, his entire being was flooded with the force.

He brought his hands together, slowly, and, once the fingertips met, he interlocked his forefingers and thumbs around each other. He gave a strong jerk, once… twice, before breaking through the fragile hold his fingers had. It was nearly an explosion of strength when he pulled his elbows back.

Jareth was not accustomed to such capabilities and, while he was not as undignified to pant or loosen his posture, he did allow a bead or two of sweat to dot his brow. He ignored the damp sensation, though, as he conjured up another crystal ball. He did not turn his attention to Sarah but to a part of the labyrinth that he knew the girl was quickly approaching. And he saw it.

The magick had worked.

_Even better._

--

Sarah was tired but it was not her body that ached. It was her head – her eyes cried out for her to rest them, her neck wanted to be set against a fluffy pillow. She yawned as she continued to walk, her hand daintily covering her opened mouth. She was not surprised to see how tired she was. Apart from walking through the labyrinth for over three hours, she had not had a _real_ night's sleep in so long. She was looking forward to a nice, dreamless sleep when this was all done and over with.

When her yawn had ended, she lifted her hand a little bit higher so that she was gently poking the flesh underneath her right eye. She knew how bad she looked – her hair was limp and lifeless and even her bags had bags at this point – and she felt even less attractive every time she saw Jareth. He was just so… _beautiful_ that it put everyone and everything else to shame.

The girl was so tired that she did not even rebel at her own thoughts of Jareth. While she normally spent much of her time trying to convince herself that he was evil and that his sole purpose in his immortal life served to bother her, Sarah was too tired to keep up such pretenses.

He interested her, that much was true. And she _did _think that he was beautiful (among other things). In fact, if Sarah was being honest with herself – which she normally was not because the repercussions of such honesty was more than she could deal with – she would have to admit that, maybe, just a smidge of her childish infatuation of the Goblin King had remained with her. And, maybe, it had grown with her as she had grown.

Sarah shook her head, trying to wake herself up (as well as trying to get rid of those thoughts). "Come on, Sarah. You can do this. It's only another five hours and then you'll be back in your bed, with nothing to remember of this whole ordeal. You'll never have to deal with the Goblin King again."

That thought depressed her for some reason but, because she was not allowing herself to be honest with, well, herself, Sarah pushed it aside. She had not forgotten her earlier assessment that it was really _her _that was sabotaging her run in the labyrinth (though she could not figure how she had enticed Jareth to steal two hours from her) – she did not want to spend any time arguing with herself over whether or not she really _wanted _to forget the Underground.

It was much better for all involved if she just continued to believe that she did. Or, at least, that was what _Sarah_ believed.

As if she was trying to outrun her own thoughts, Sarah picked up the pace again. Her tennis shoes plodding against the floor of the labyrinth, she hurried in and out of the various twists in the garden hedge part of the maze. Some part of her wondered whether or not she would see the wise man sitting with that weird hat of his but she doubted it; if she had not seen any creatures yet, what made her think that he would appear?

Her direction was off but as long as she kept the imposing castle in her sight – she could see it towering above the labyrinth – she was convinced that, sooner or later (hopefully sooner), she would make it there. But, because the direction she went in correlated with her position to the great castle, Sarah took turns that, if she had been paying attention, she might not have taken.

And that was how she found herself in a dead end, facing a door.

It had not been a dead end when she entered it. Sarah had made a right turn, leaving the hedge maze behind her. She could tell that she had made it through the second part of the labyrinth – the rocky outer layer and the garden hedge maze – because, if she stood on her tip-toes, she could make out, not too far in the distance, the firey's forest. All she had to do, in order to get out of the maze and be done with the various straits and turns of the first two layers, was make her way through a smaller series of rocky walls.

For the first time since she had entered this run, she took her gaze off of the castle. Once she made it to the forest, she knew that there was not much left – she needed to get to the forest.

Unfortunately for Sarah, though, her preoccupation with jumping up every few feet, to ensure that she was still heading in the direction of the forest – she could only imagine what Jareth would think if he saw her doing that – led her into a turn that did not continue. Instead of it being an open passageway, the strait ended with a wall. The wall, however, had a door in the center of it, complete with a rocky shaped door handle.

Now, Sarah did not have pleasant memories of the doors within the labyrinth; neither door she had opened during her first run had helped her out. Therefore, it would not be surprising to know that, as soon as she (finally) saw the door in front of her, she turned right around in an attempt to take a different path. Which, of course, meant that all she found, when she spun around, was another wall.

The labyrinth had changed. There was no other way out of this strait except for going through that doorway. Something that Sarah was really hesitant to do. What would meet her past the threshold? Certain death? A drop that led her to being groped by a myriad of hands? Nothing?

_Is this another trick? A door to make me stop and think when, in reality, it's just a simple obstacle to get to the forest? _

She stood there standing in front of the door, too intimidated to open it up (just in case), for a few minutes, pondering her next move, when, somewhere above her, she heard the clock ring the time. Six loud and melodic chimes told her that her time was now more than halfway done – she had four hours left to get through the Forbidden Forest, through the Bog of Eternal Stench and past the goblins in order to confront the King.

The sound of another hour past evaporated Sarah's fear. With a firm hand, and a deep breath, she opened the door.


	17. Part Seventeen: An almost moment

Author's Note: _And, here is the next chapter. I really wish I had come up with some of the suggestions before as to what was behind the door but, alas, this is what I came up with so I hope you guys like it. And, yea, some nice Jareth/Sarah interaction. Of course, there had to be a price for that… another mild cliffhanger maybe? We'll see… Anywho, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone. I'll see you after the holiday (though I might get one more update of Fourteen in, I'm not sure yet)._

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

--

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

It's been three years since Sarah thought she left the Labyrinth but,  
as she's learning now, she's never truly been gone.

--

PART SEVENTEEN  
_Sleepwalker seducing me…_

--

Whatever Sarah was expecting when she opened the passageway, it was not what she found. It definitely was not just an obstacle, nor was it a path to continue walking forward. In fact, it would be impossible to go forward since, when the door swung outward, all Sarah could see was a solid rock wall in front of her. That, and a metal ladder.

She snorted and turned behind her, in the off chance that the labyrinth had decided to move around again and she had a more trustworthy way to escape than this ladder. But, of course, the wall behind was still there and, unless she planned on putting down roots and spending the rest of her days in this small box of the labyrinth, closed in by two very hard, rocky walls, Sarah knew that she had to follow this ladder to wherever it would take her.

Before she just reached out and climbed onto the metal structure, she looked down. There was more than enough room to fit her if she chose to shimmy down into the darkness on the ladder. It was impossible to tell how far the ladder went but the absolute darkness that greeted her as she stared down intimidated her. Memories of the last time she had gone downward while in the labyrinth – and the oubliette she found herself in – overwhelmed her and, for a second, she wondered just how bad it would be to live in this small square.

Then she remembered that it would only be a matter of time before the labyrinth's liege proclaimed himself victor, sought her out in the closed passage and turned her into a goblin. At least, if she followed the ladder down, there was a chance that she could move further through the maze and eventually get to Jareth's castle; if her hesitations kept her frozen in front of the open, and ominous, door, she would only lose.

Sarah sighed and stretched her arms forward until she had a firm hold on the ladder. She pulled on it tentatively, making sure that it was strong enough to support her weight, before swinging her feet forward and planting them on a study rung. Once she was safely on the ladder, she dared a glance up. Things were never as they appeared to be in the labyrinth and she would not have been surprised if the ladder actually went upward. It did not – it only extended a couple of rungs before her head before it was complete – and Sarah sighed again. There was nowhere to go but down.

_Well, at least it's a ladder and not the helping hands. Those things were creepy. And I think one of them grabbed my butt last time when they dropped me into the oubliette,_ she thought wryly as she started her climb down.

It grew darker the further down she went and, after she had descended a few feet, Sarah began to have second thoughts. She could barely see the ladder in front of her face and twice her foot had slid on a rung, very nearly propelling her down. _I wonder if the labyrinth has moved again. Maybe if I go back up, I'll be able to get back into the main part of the labyrinth and not have to go into the darkness, after all. _

Standing still, she wondered what the odds were that the maze might have moved again. It seemed to be doing a lot of that during this journey; she would not put it past the labyrinth – or Jareth, for that matter – to lure her into the darkness and cause her to waste liberal amounts of time navigating the ladder.

_That's it, I'm going back up. At least there's light up there_, Sarah told herself as she began to move upwards. Unfortunately for the girl, after she pulled herself up two steps, there came a distinct slamming noise – the door had been shut. The little bit of light there had been evaporated and she was plunged into sudden and absolute darkness. Whether she liked it or not, she was trapped. She really _had _to move downwards now.

Disgusted, Sarah let out an exasperated noise before starting to move down again. She really should have known better. If the labyrinth wanted her to go down, she was going down.

--

Jareth had not taken his eyes off of the crystal he gripped loosely between his fingers. He had watched as Sarah, unaware of the trap that lay before her, followed the path he set for her. He watched as she walked right up to the door he conjured for her and let out a laugh when Sarah's eyes widened in surprise, almost as if she had not noticed the great wall that stood before her until she had tried to walk through it. With a second pull of the magick, he formed a second wall behind her, blocking her exit.

She looked expectantly at the new wall – she did not look surprised that it was there, only disappointed – before finally spinning back around and facing the obstruction. Jareth silently dared the girl to open the door and smirked victoriously when she had. Now, all she had to do was climb down the ladder…

He felt mildly offended when Sarah pulled on the ladder; it was an insult to him that she assumed he would not create something that would support her – surely she did not believe that he intended her _harm_? But, before he could dwell on that, he watched as the girl began to descend into the darkness.

She was going slower than he had expected her to go. Considering that the toll of the sixth hour past had rung just prior to her opening the door, Sarah was perfectly aware of how much time she had left. If there was one thing he had noticed as he watched her, whenever the clock chimed, Sarah put on extra burst of speed, as if the clock bell was reminding her of her ten hour time limit. However, this time… she continued to move slowly. _Interesting…_

And then she stopped. For no apparent reason, in the middle of the downward passage, Sarah froze on the ladder. With the use of his scrying crystal, he could see Sarah's face, but only barely. There was no light in the passage, save the glimmer that filtered down from the open door, and he did not want to risk illuminating the small space just so he could get a better look at her.

It was hard to tell what she was thinking. From his vantage point, he could see that her brow was furrowed; whatever she was doing, Sarah was thinking. She remained frozen on her step for a minute before moving again. But, this time, she was not heading in the direction Jareth wanted her to go – she was climbing back up.

_She's going to attempt to climb out of the darkness and find another path. Clever, Sarah, but, now, we can't have that._

With a flick of his left wrist, the door slammed shut, effectively trapping Sarah. It grew even darker and he could not longer make anything out. That was bad for two reasons: one, without any light to help guide the girl down the ladder, she might just trip and fall and – while he did not want to injure her – a fall of that distance would not help her; and, two, Jareth could not longer see her.

He raised his hand slightly, a small motion, and with the gesture, there was a little illumination. Not enough to help Sarah, really, but enough to ensure a safe descent – and to ensure that he would not miss a moment of her journey. The last time he had taken his attention off of the girl, she had almost exited his spell by going through the glass of her vanity; he could not chance her escape again.

Jareth waited quietly, mismatched eyes focused on the crystal, until it seemed that Sarah was just about to reach the end of the ladder, just about to fall into his trap. As soon as he was certain that she was nearly done, he tossed the crystal into the air. When the crystal vanished, so did he.

--

So focused on retaining her grip on the ladder, and making sure that her feet were not missing the successive step, Sarah did not notice that the darkness was fading – that there was a trickle of light following her as she went even lower; or, if she did, she attributed it to her eyes adjusting to the blackness.

Her hands were slippery with sweat as she continued to hold tight to the ladder. She could not help but wonder just how deep she was going; it seemed like she had been climbing down for hours and, with ever step lower she took, she wondered just how smart it was to be going even further underground in the Underground.

_This is just a time waster. For all I know, this is a never ending ladder and I'll keep climbing until my time runs out. Sounds like a good Goblin King-type trick._

Sarah was frustrated and just wished that she would land already; for her, anything would be better than climbing for all eternity. The dark was stifling and she was beginning to feel just a bit claustrophobic. The drop into the oubliette had not even been half this bad.

She was so frustrated that she forgot one of the more important rules, especially when dealing magick: _be careful what you wish for. _Sarah wanted her climb to end and it did. When she stepped down, her tennis shoe reached for a rung that did not exist. The drop of her foot into nothing but air caught her off guard and her hands, slicked with sweat, slipped off of the ladder's side.

She fell.

Sarah was lucky, all things considered. She only fell about a foot and a half; her backside cushioned the fall. And, though she would have one hell of a bruise when she woke up tomorrow morning – whether or not she would wake up as a goblin or a girl was still undecided – at least she was still in one piece.

It did not mean that she was happy about landing so roughly on the dirt. It hurt and the swear word she let out in annoyance said as much for her.

Taking it for granted that she was alone, Sarah gasped when her exclamation garnered a haughty chuckle.

"Now, Sarah, is that any way for a Queen to speak?"

She recognized the voice and quickly scrambled to her feet. While rubbing her back, she glared furiously into the darkness. "Jareth? Where are you?" she demanded. She chose to gloss over the mention of a Queen – for her, it was just bad enough that he was there. In the darkness. With her.

As soon as she spoke, a brilliant blossom of brightness came from behind her. She whirled around and saw that the unflappable Goblin King was standing there, one of his crystals radiating the light. He looked amused to find her there, staring mutinously up at him, her hands on her hips. "Hello, Sarah."

He seemed so cool, so calm, so unruffled, that Sarah could not believe he was really standing there. She could just imagine how she appeared – she had landed on dirt and most of her once-white t-shirt was covered in dust from her fall – but, at that moment, she did not care. Tearing her eyes off of the impressive figure before her, she swiveled her head this way and that, trying to figure out where she was.

Her earlier fears were founded. She was, once again, in an oubliette.

Something Hoggle had said to her three years ago came rushing back. _This is an oubliette. Labyrinth's full of them… _So, she had not encountered the guards, the helping hands and the other oubliette again – she had found herself trapped in one. With the Goblin King, no less.

"Why are you here?" she asked, understandably suspicious. Her eyes were accusing as she met his again. "Here to gloat? Are you glad that I'm stuck down here?" She jerked her arm upward in the direction from which she came. "The door up there shut behind me and I have no other way out. Happy?"

His face did not change; his mask held firm. "You wound me. I came only to ask you again how you like my labyrinth." He placed the glowing orb on the top of his hand and sent it traveling up his arm. It fell back again and traveled to the second arm, establishing a pattern. Before long, it was moving at a dizzying pace.

Sarah watched the moving light, almost transfixed by its speed. She had heard Jareth's comment but did not answer it at first. It was only when she realized that he was waiting for her to respond that she looked at his impassive face. "I was doing fine until I came down here," she answered honestly before wishing that she had not. The admission awarded that Goblin King a bit of power over her – something she could ill afford, especially with only (less than) four hours left in her run.

But, if Jareth understand her words the way that she meant them, he did not point out her flaw. Instead, he nodded once, while still spinning his crystal. "Would you like to find a way out?" He did not sound particularly helpful; in fact, he sounded quite bored.

No matter how the offer was said, what surprised Sarah more than anything was that _he _had said it. She took a step back. "I don't want to go back to the start of the labyrinth, if that's what you mean."

Jareth laughed and she found herself, traitorously, thinking that it was a nice sound – masculine yet, strangely, kind. "That's not what I meant. Though that is a good idea, Sarah," he said as he stopped the crystal's motion. He cupped it in his hand and took a few steps closer to Sarah, quickly closing the gap between the two of them. The girl did not welcome his advance and moved away. But, there was only so far for her to go and, after a few feet, her back was up against the edge of the oubliette.

Jareth leaned in and, with his free hand, almost trapped her against the wall. It was a seductive pose, admittedly, and there were only a couple of inches separating his mouth from hers. "Sarah," he began as he moved his mouth downward. He was pleased to see that the girl did not move away from him and, against his better judgment, he moved his lips ever closer to her. The girl was shaking slightly, he could feel it, but she did not move – at least, not until she could feel his hot breath on her. Luckily for them both, just before he lost his control entirely, Sarah turned her face away.

He sighed and drew back. _That was too close. What would have happened if she did not move? I have to have better control. Only four more hours and I can have the girl. I can not chance losing her before the close of the spell…_

"Here, Sarah," he said, his voice holding only a hint of his disappointment. Hesitantly, the girl turned her face back – there was a wistful look on it that she had not been able to hide. Once he had her attention, Jareth he tossed the glowing crystal into the air. It split into two in the air and, when they both fell into his waiting palm, only one light-filled orb remained. The other went dim. "I've brought you a gift."


	18. Part Eighteen: A gift, accepted

Author's Note: _And, here is the next chapter. Woot. Yay for more Sarah/Jareth interaction. Almost as teasing as the prior chapter (almost) – can we say sexual tension? Poor Jareth, he can't technically do anything until she has finished (or not) the labyrinth. I wonder if cold showers exist in the Underground ;) Anywho, same drill as always: read, review… you know, the good stuff and, in turn, I'll update quickly. Sound good? And check out Fourteen, too. The last two chapters I post of that have no love, and (even though I'm the writer and I'm biased) I really enjoy that one. Dark!Fics are awesome, eh?_

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

--

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

It's been three years since Sarah thought she left the Labyrinth but,  
as she's learning now, she's never truly been gone.

--

PART EIGHTEEN  
_I dare to enter your ecstasy…_

--

He was pleased to hear that, when she spoke, her voice trembled. "A gift?" she repeated, very wary of the twin crystals in his open hand. "What for?"

"Just because. Do you want it?" He switched the glowing orb to his left hand and lifted the dim crystal up so that Sarah could see it. He squeezed it and, before the crystal could shatter, the magick transformed it; what had been a crystal only seconds ago was now a ripe peach.

Sarah saw the peach and snorted. "No thank you." _As if I'd be dumb enough to fall for that trick a second time…_

The Goblin King had not expected her to accept the fruit. He shook his head royally and lifted the peach to his lips. It was perfectly matured and firm to his touch; he gave it a visible squeeze and let his tongue slowly (and seductively) reach for the peach. He ran it up the side of the fruit, through the fuzz, his eyes focused on Sarah. The girl was entranced by the motion. He could almost hear the growling of her stomach and knew that she wanted that peach – but her pride (and her common sense) was standing in the way of her taking it from him.

He met her gaze and, before she could turn her head defiantly away, he viciously took a large bite out of the peach. Of course the action meant more than it appeared – he did not normally attack his fruit in such a manner – but, as the sweet juices of the peach dribbled down his chin, Jareth felt in control again. Sometime during this second visit, the pendulum had swung away from him but the advantage had returned.

Jareth did not wipe away at the stickiness; he left it there as a blatant reminder for Sarah. He did hold up the peach, positioning it so that the large bite mark was visible. "It was just a peach, Sarah. Nothing more. Nothing less." He tossed it up in the air, straight up, and let it fall back into his palm. He laughed coldly; she had expected him to toss the peach at her and started. "Do you want it?"

She hesitated. From the light given off by the glowing crystal, he could see her nibbling nervously on her lower lip. The action made him curse his self-control – if he had not pulled away from her, if she had not turned away from him, it could have been _him _who was nibbling on that lip – and he squeezed the peach again. As the juice dripped down his leather glove, he sent the scent, amplified, towards Sarah. She was weakening. _Take the peach, Sarah. It's a simple peace offering. Let's be friends, _he thought, gazing wolfishly down at the girl – she missed the look, her eyes fastened on the fruit. _Lovers will come later, I promise._

"I am a bit hungry," she admitted, finally. After all, she had foolishly wished herself away right before dinner and, of course, she really had not had much of an appetite lately. That peach was the first piece of food that appealed to her – or could it have been the way he made that peach look so damn good? It was strange, really. Ever since the last time she had eaten a peach – the peach Jareth had made Hoggle give to her – the sight of the fruit only turned her stomach; but, now, she wanted nothing more than to mimic his gesture and bit hungrily into it's ripe flesh. Of course, though, she had no idea that, when Jareth bit into the peach, he had been imagining it was her flesh and not that of the fruit's. "Are you sure there isn't anything wrong with the peach? I'm not going to lose time or… anything like that, am I?"

Apart from feeling a bit amused that Sarah refused to address the Masquerade Ball her dreams had led her into during her first run, there was rush of pride that he felt towards the girl. She really had learned _something _from her first run of the labyrinth. And, for a moment, he thought it might be more fruitful – not to mention, more amusing – to give Sarah an enchanted peach. As it was, she still had four hours left and, though she did not know it, she had already gone more than halfway through the labyrinth. If she kept up her pace and continued to head in the right direction, there was a possibility that she _might _actually reach the castle in time.

Not that he would allow that. But, the way he saw it, he had accomplished two means already by trapping her in this labyrinth: he had stalled her for a bit of time, as well as having another meeting with Sarah. The near kiss aside, this second meeting was going much better than he expected – and, because of that almost moment, he would wager much of his kingdom that she would be quite preoccupied with trying to figure out what had just happened between them; while that had not been his intent, it was a bonus.

As for the peach, if Jareth gave her one filled with a sleeping draught that enticed her dreams to come to life, then he was only reaffirming her base suspicions of him as a cheat, and a predictable cheat at that. But, if the peach he gave her was harmless, then it served dual purposes: it made him appear all the more trustworthy while, at the same time, giving Sarah something else to mull over. The girl had been nothing but suspicious (and rightly so) during this run and if the Goblin King did not cheat, then he was sure that his unwillingness to conform to that cruel role she envisioned for him would lead to a rise in Sarah's paranoia.

So, in theory, he did not need to do anything to stall her. Whether she was aware or not, Sarah was the one who was continually wasting her allotted time. All he had to do was keep the magick whirring until Sarah conceded herself over to him. Then she would be his, no strings attached.

His father's comment from their early meeting was a factor in his decision, too, though he would never admit it. When Jareth had set up the spell, and devoted much of his time and energy to it, he had done so with the understanding that he would do anything in his power to return the mortal girl to the realm she truly belonged – his realm, the Underground. But, if Lord Corrigan felt that the extremes he had gone to in order to see that his desires were met were too much, then perhaps he might have gone too far. Of course, his answer still held: _Sarah will never learn what l have done to make her mine. _As long as she was unaware of the lengths he had gone, the amount of deceit he had used to capture her, then she would be satisfied. She would be his Queen.

"I give you my word," Jareth said solemnly, holding the peach out towards her. There was a bit of an amused smirk on his face. It would be no fun if he just told her straight out that it was a simple piece of fruit. Sarah expected him to deceive her – he would live up to that expectation, just as he had done countless times before for her.

Sarah's nose wrinkled at the bite mark. As if her trance had been broken, she remembered the little green worm that had crawled out of the last peach she had eaten and, suddenly, that peach did not look so appetizing anymore. She sniffed. "Jareth, words for you are lies," she shot back. Her head, cloudy and muddled following his close proximity, seemed to clear and, vaguely, she wondered what kind of sway he held over her. "Your words are nothing more than playthings to manipulate and twist until they no longer even remotely resemble what one thinks they mean."

Jareth bowed his head slightly, as if he was conceding a point to an opponent – at that moment, Sarah was his opponent and a most worthy one at that. "Touché," he said lightly, not at all bothered by her accusation. She was correct, after all, even if her very words did not apply to this situation. "However, this peach," he said, once again lifting the peach up. Sarah, despite her best intentions, gazed up at it and was surprised to see that it no longer held Jareth's bite. It was whole. "This peach is perfectly safe. It is simply nothing more than a peach." He gazed at it and, before Sarah knew that he had done it, he tossed it underhandedly to the girl.

She caught it. How she did it, she had no clue – especially since she had hardly seen it leave his hand – but it was in her hand, looking quite delicious. Her mouth began to water. She thought of the juice that dribbled down his chin, and how thirsty she had been before. She really was quite hungry. "Really?"

"Well, I can't have you passing out in the labyrinth because you have not been properly nourished, dear Sarah," he said. He was interested to see that, rather than looking taken aback at his statement, she seemed flustered and automatically lifted her left hand to touch the flesh under her eyes. The Goblin King was confused to what her gesture meant but did not comment on it. Instead, he decided to take a quick humorous jab at her and her first run of the labyrinth. "Because, quite obviously, if you grew weak and could not finish the labyrinth, well, that would not be _fair _then, would it?"

She dropped her left hand and stared at him incredulously. In a way, she felt better to be engaging in this sort of banter with the King – whatever had _almost _happened had been too strange for her; an argumentative, superior-thinking Goblin King was the only kind she knew how to handle, not a polite, near-kissable one. He set a fire under her, igniting her to continue on her journey and _win_. In an act of defiance, Sarah lifted the peach to her mouth and, just like he had done, took a rather large bite, scattering bits of the pulp, as well as the juice, with the force. As she chewed – _damn it, this peach tastes good! _– she glared up at Jareth.

He did not say anything. He did not have to. Both of them knew that he had been baiting her and, predictably, Sarah had risen to the bait. If he had wanted to trick her, wanted to cause her to waste time, he could have quite easily enchanted the peach and lied about it. But he did not. He had told the truth – and, for that, Sarah (begrudgingly) enjoyed his gift.

Copying his gesture, Sarah had let the peach's juice escape from the corners of her mouth, and slowly dribble down her fair skin. The peach, a fruit of the Fae, was juicier than anything produced Aboveground – that multitude of juice made it the perfect choice for a sleeping draught vessel – and its nectar flowed freely.

Jareth self-control was beginning to slip away from him. The sight was too tantalizing, too seductive – thought he was sure that, due to the aura of innocence that continued to radiate off of Sarah Williams, the girl had no idea as to how appealing she was at that very moment – and he knew that if he did not leave her side as quickly as possible, he would end up jeopardizing everything he had worked toward.

He could not control himself. Before either of them knew it, he had backed her up against the wall. Her eyes widened and he could almost taste the palpable fear and excitement that his proximity to the girl induced. He did not try to kiss her again – he knew better – but, with a gentle and light caress, he used his gloved hand to wipe the excess juice from her chin. Then, with Sarah as a bewildered witness to his strange behavior –_ she still has not come to terms with my feelings or her own, damn it!_ – he slowly licked the juices off of his fingertips.

"What… what—" she began, a whisper that seemed to be made of the essence of the peach. She was beginning to regret ever taking the peach, ever entering that door, _ever calling on the Goblin King_, but, at the same time, some part of her kept her stationary. She kind of, sort of, _liked _the way he hovered over her like this. Maybe.

Jareth lowered his glove and placed his mouth next to her ear. "There is only three hours and forty-six minutes left, Sarah. And then you'll be mine." And, with the echo of his familiar laugh, the Goblin King was gone.


	19. Part Nineteen: A way out

Author's Note: _And, here, finally, is the next chapter. It was a little bit tougher to write but I finally got it done… Yeah. And I know it seems like the last couple chapters really had no point (at least in furthering Sarah's run in the labyrinth) but, trust me, they did. At the very least, it was a nice, healthy dose of sexual tension :) Woot._

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

--

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

It's been three years since Sarah thought she left the Labyrinth but,  
as she's learning now, she's never truly been gone.

--

PART NINETEEN  
_Lay_ _yourself now down to sleep…_

--

The half-eaten peach fell out of her loose grasp. She was too… too _everything_ – intimidated, confused, excited even – and, with her mind struggling to hold onto all that had just happened between Jareth and her, his gift was quickly forgotten. She had found her way into another of the labyrinth's oubliettes but, before she could begin to even look for a way out – if there was one – she had been visited by the King, himself.

And what a visit it was. She was still trying to figure out just what had passed between them. He had just been there but, unlike her expectations, he had not mocked her, taunted her or jeered her in any way. He had… been kind, almost. And, she might have been imagining it but, it seemed as if he had wanted to kiss her.

She snorted to herself and shook her head. _The Goblin King just wants to beat me, that's it. He doesn't want to lose a second time. I mean, kiss me? What is wrong with me? I think lack of sleep is seriously beginning to mess with my head…_

Though she did have to admit that the peach was a nice gesture – especially since she was certain, now, that it was not enchanted. The last time she had eaten a peach that had come from him (via Hoggle), the effects had been instantaneous; all she felt now was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach that had began once she took a bite off the fruit – or maybe it was because of his gentle touch…

Trying not to let her thoughts linger on that – her stomach gave an involuntary shudder – Sarah tried to look about her, searching for an exit. It was hard not to notice just how dark the oubliette was now that he was gone.

_An oubliette… a place to forget._ _Isn't that why I'm in the labyrinth again? To forget? _Sarah shook her head and tried to peer into the darkness; it seemed even darker than it had been before. As her heart began to beat to a steadier rhythm, the girl groaned out loud. Not only had their meeting taken up precious moments but, even after speaking with the King, she still had no idea to where precisely she was – except that it was an oubliette – or how she was going to escape from it – except that it was an oubliette and there would not be an obvious door.

To make matters all the more annoying for her, when Jareth had left, he had taken the light with him. And, of course, his visit had been so _intense _that she had not even taken a moment to get her bearings and look about; there had to be a way out, despite the meaning of oubliette, and she was annoyed that she had not taken the opportunity to find it when Jareth had been there.

But the annoyance did not last. If Sarah let herself get flustered – as if she was not already more flustered then she had ever been in her life – then she was playing right into Jareth's hands. _That has to be it. He's just playing head games with me… again. It's just a game. I have to remember that. Three hours and forty-some odd minutes. I can do this… if I can get out of here first…_

That's when she heard it. It was a small sound but she could hear it distinctly – she wondered how she had not heard it before. It sounded as if something small and heavy was rolling downward. And, if something was rolling downward, that meant that there was a downward direction in which to go.

Placing her hands out before her so that she would not walk face first into anything, Sarah began to walk forward, following the sound. It did not continue much longer but that was all right – Sarah had already found the dip that led her even further underground. Vaguely, she wondered how she had missed seeing this when the light was shining but then she remembered that her attention had been otherwise preoccupied.

She was only walking for a few minutes when the dip abruptly ended. Her hands made contact with the wall and all of Sarah's assumptions that this would be the way out scattered. Frustrated, Sarah pounded the wall once before turning around and letting herself sit on the ground. Once she was squatted down, back against the wall, she let her hands drop. Her left hand brushed the juiciness of the peach and she jerked, not expecting the warmth of the fruit. Before she could think about what she was doing, she picked it up and flung it away. The last thing she wanted then was a reminder of the Goblin King.

_What do I do now? Man, what I wouldn't give to have Hoggle appear with a way out right now._

In a fit of irritation, Sarah leaned her head back, a bit harder than she would have done if she was not so annoyed. Her head made contact – pretty hard contact, too – with the rocky wall… but it was not just a wall. There was something jutting out from it; that something had whacked right into the back of Sarah's head and was currently causing a nasty headache to bloom.

"What the—" she started, her hand flying up to rub the back of her head. But, when the back of her hand made contact with whatever was sticking out from the wall, she swiveled her head around. She squinted – she still could not make anything out in this darkness – but, praying that it was doorknob, she stood up.

The pain from her head was momentarily forgotten as she reached for the assume doorknob. When it turned under her touch, she smiled to herself. She pull the door in and, though there was no rush of light – _that would have been too easy_ – there was enough for her to make out what was in front of her: another ladder.

--

Jareth transported himself back to the faux throne room. His laughter stopped as soon as he knew that Sarah was out of earshot. He was all business once again when he found himself sitting in the crystal chair. His mismatched eyes were set, his thin mouth was straight. As soon as he was comfortable, he conjured a crystal.

Just as he had assumed, Sarah was still frozen in the same spot that he had left her in. He watched as she just stood still in the darkness; the peach he had gifted unto her fell, forgotten from her grasp. He caught the motion and, waving his free hand, sent the peach tumbling downward.

It had gotten too close down in the oubliette; he could not believe how close he had been to losing his control. The blame, he felt, was on Sarah's young shoulders – she had no idea how appealing she was to him. But it was he who knew the repercussions from a moment's pleasure. If he had given in to his desires and planted just one kiss on the girl before she had made it to the castle, she would have won. And, of course, he could not have that.

The stakes had risen immensely with his father's visit. This was no longer just about him and Sarah – this run would affect the future of the Goblin Kingdom. If he let her slip through his grasp a second time, it would be Madrigal who would rule by his side as Queen. But Maddie was not the second half of his soul… the young mortal girl was. It would only be a matter of time before Sarah knew that as well.

With a confident smirk – it found its way to his handsome face without him even being aware – Jareth thought back to the way Sarah had looked at him while locked in the oubliette. It was not a face of hatred nor or anger; it was a face of longing and promise. The magick was working its way into her consciousness. She was beginning to face the truth that lay dormant in her heart.

Jareth had always thought that she reciprocated his feelings – as best she could, of course. But, with that one near-miss of a moment, he had known the truth. She was attracted to him… that much was true. And, until the spell had completed, that was enough for him.

Still focused on the image in his crystal, he watched as Sarah caught onto his hint. He knew perfectly well that, if he offered her help explicitly, she would assume it to be a trap; however, if he led her to believe that she had figured it out on her own, unaware of his aid, she would quickly resume her journey. She heard the peach, its journey conveniently amplified, and followed it.

He did not want to make it too easy on her. She had believed that the peach was leading her to an exit (which it was) but she did not find one right away – she was angered by that and flopped herself on the ground. It was then, with a second wave of his hand, that he created the door and a second ladder. _There…_

It did not take much longer for the girl to find the exit, though he did feel a bit remorseful that she harmed her head on his newly fashioned doorknob. Sarah did not hesitate when she realized that it was a second door, nor when she felt the metal rails of a second ladder.

Jareth's fixed gaze continued as Sarah began to climb. It took a third and final wave to set up the part of the labyrinth that she found herself in. Then, once his preparations for this leg of her journey were complete, he tossed the crystal into the air so that it was hovering before him.

Only then did he allow himself a moment of reliving that encounter in the oubliette. With a barely audible moan, he lifted his gloved hand – the same gloved hand that had stolen the juice from Sarah's chin – and rested it against his cheek.

--

Sarah was quite proud of herself. She had no reason to suspect that the door had not been placed there for the sole purpose of enabling her escape – just like she had no reason to suspect that the oubliette had been created just so that Jareth could have another moment to speak with her. At first, she felt that it might have been a change in her luck that led the peach to drop from her hand, and the same luck that enticed the peach to roll downwards towards the door. But, by the time she finished climbing that second ladder, she was beginning to think that it was her own conviction to beat Jareth a second time that brought her to the door.

The ladder did not seem to extend as high as the one that dropped her into the oubliette; it was almost directly after she began to ascend that her hands ran out railing, her feet found no further rung. It was still dark but, with one hand holding tight to the metal ladder, Sarah reached out. Her hand found a bump in the wall and, hoping that it was a handle, she turned.

She let out a breath of relief when the bump turned and, with a gentle push, a hole was made in the rocky wall. To her surprise, she could see a hold carved out of the frame – it was designed, she could see, to help a runner climb off of the ladder and back into the labyrinth. She smirked at the structure's thoughtfulness and grabbed onto it with her free hand. Then, shifting her body weight on her secure foot, Sarah swung herself over. Her second hand braced the doorway until both of her feet were on the ground.

As soon as she was sure that she would not fall backwards, she took a few tentative steps forward. Her green eyes scanned the part of the labyrinth she had found herself in – just off to her right she could make out the looming castle in the distance – but her pride turned to her annoyance when she noticed that, after all that, she had exited back into the same closed off part of the labyrinth that she had been before she voluntarily entered the labyrinth.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered as she placed her hands on her hips. There was still that foreboding wall in front of her but, as she stared at it accusingly – as if it was the wall's fault for trapping her within its fold – she noticed something that she had not seen before. Actually, she was almost _positive _that it had not been there before.

It was quite unlike the childish scrawl that had made up the earlier message she had seen. But, to Sarah's eye, the fancy, ornate script was more threatening, though the message was definitely not as chilling as the first. It was the sign of intelligence and an appreciation of beauty. And, as far as she knew, there was only one person in the labyrinth who would have the capability (and reasoning) to impose such a warning.

There, written as delicately in the rock as if it had been painted on rather than chiseled, was a simple message:

_I'd turn back if I were you._


	20. Part Twenty: A frightful time

Author's Note: _Nope, it's not an April Fools Day joke – I really have updated _Sleepwalker _again. I know it's been forever (almost 3 months, ouch!) but things have gotten crazy around her. I finally got another job and that, coupled with my mom's health issues and an admitted case of severe writer's block when it came to my Labyrinth stories, led to such a huge gap in between updates. Hopefully that will not happen again. And I hope you guys enjoy the new chapter!_

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

--

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

It's been three years since Sarah thought she left the Labyrinth but,  
as she's learning now, she's never truly been gone.

--

PART TWENTY  
_In my dreams you're mine to keep..._

--

She read the message inwardly but, despite the threatening undertones of the carved words, did not grow anymore intimidated. Instead, she shook her head and, just like the message told her, Sarah turned around. She did not know what she was expecting to see as she swiveled her body but it was definitely not what she found. Rather than the door that she had just emerged from, she found a clear path.

There was no sign at all that a doorway – ladder that led to an oubliette, included – had existed. She was surprised, though she probably should not have been, and her first thought was that it was an illusion. Treading slowly, as if she expected a hole to appear underfoot, she held her hands outward, searching for something that was not there.

Sarah continued to do so, aware of how silly she would look to anyone who was watching her make her way through this part of the labyrinth, but she also knew that it was better to be safe than sorry. Jareth had taught her that much, at least. That and that nothing was fair but only children whined continually about that.

And Sarah Williams – with the things she has seen and experienced – was no longer a child. After all, wasn't that what this second adventure about? Bidding farewell to the last remains of her childhood?

When she had covered the space where the door had only just been, Sarah let one of her hands fall back to her side; the other one was used to rub at one of her overly puffy eyes. She was still so very tired – there was still so much on her mind – but the last encounter with Jareth had energized her somewhat. There was more than three and a half hours left for her to defeat the Goblin King; three and a half hours until her life, once again, belonged to her entirely.

The way she figured it, she had made it through the two toughest parts of the maze – all that was left was getting through the Forbidden Forest, the Bog of Eternal Stench and arriving at the castle beyond the Goblin City. It would be tough, she knew that, but she had done it once before. She could do it again.

With a renewed sense of determination – if only to beat Jareth so that she could wipe that perpetual knowing smirk off of his face – Sarah strode forward.

There were only a few more rocky walls that she had to navigate before she would arrive at the mouth of the forest. And, as long as there were no further detours into obscure oubliettes, she would be there before she knew it.

She made a right, while still keeping the towering castle in sight, and continued to move forward. She stumbled only once, her foot catching in a dip that she was too late to notice, but she did not waver. If she just closed her eyes and thought about the Goblin King, she could see every detail of his sculpted face, could feel the sensation that lingered in the pit of her stomach. It was impossible for her to think of anything else and she found that the only way for her to clear her mind was by walking all the faster.

There was a sense of relief when she finally exited that addendum of rocky walls; however, that relief was short-lived as she stared at the dark, foreboding forest before her. Whether it was because her last experience within this wooded area was terrifying – prior to the most recent onslaught of nightmares, Sarah had plenty of night terrors that featured red-orange fireys attempting to rip off of her head – or because it had been so long since she had been there, but it seemed darker somehow. And the trees… they were taller, denser and appeared to be leering at her, leaning in her direction as if they were daring her to enter their folds.

Sarah gulped. She felt much of her confidence ebb away. Far from inviting, the Forbidden Forest exuded danger – it was a perfect match, she felt, to the monarch that lorded over it. Despite the creatures she imagined lived in there, there was a sense of stillness that seemed unnatural – it was too quiet. Even though she had not run across the rambunctious, fall-apart fireys until she was in the thick of the woods, she had heard their partying a bit away. Now, though, she heard nothing… and that only heightened the amount of nerves she was feeling at that moment.

She ran her hands across her face as she closed her eyes. Taking a few seconds to prepare herself for what she had to do, she opened her eyes again and pushed a few of the strands of hair out of her face; her ponytail was wilting and some of the sweat she had experienced during her journey so far had led the front pieces to stick to her skin before drying again. She could only imagine how she looked now…

Before starting the trek through the forest, the girl glanced down at the silver watch on her wrist. Going by the time that Jareth had told her was remaining when they were together in the oubliette, Sarah could see that there was exactly three hours and fifteen minutes left.

_That's plenty of time to get through the last obstacles of the labyrinth, _she thought to herself, encouragingly, _as long as I don't run across any of those stupid fire monsters. _She had outrun them the last time she met them and she only got away from them due to Hoggle's help.

But she did not have Hoggle on her side this time. She did not have anyone to help her. She had to do it on her own.

With a defiant stare at the inanimate forest, Sarah nodded. _And I will. _

--

With every step she took in the eerie forest, Sarah waited for something to jump out at her. She had never been, for the most part, that paranoid but her last trip to the Underground three years ago had instilled in her a sense to look over her shoulder at any given moment. The way she saw it, she could never be sure when she was alone; as hard as she tried to forget this place, there was always that part of her consciousness that remained in the Underground. It bothered her – it definitely did – but, until the rash decision to wish herself away had come to her mind, she had never known what she could do to change it.

That paranoia was the most acute in the Forbidden Forest – at the very least, it was much more than it had been throughout the rocky outer layer of the labyrinth or the garden hedge maze portion. The long, wild grass seemed as if they were creepers aiming to ensnare her ankles; the trees were even thicker the further she traveled inward, often leading her to take another route by blocking her path.

And it was still quiet. _Too _quiet.

But it wasn't that it was just quiet. This quiet had a strange quality, like the calm before a storm. Sarah had the idea that, perhaps, this was the quiet that was produced by creatures who were trying their hardest to be quiet… the same quiet that resulted in the silence becoming almost unbearable.

There was the sound of her sneaker covered feet crushing the grass, and her breathing. But, beyond that, there was nothing.

_Wait. _

Sarah paused, her heart already hammering its beat as a result of the clear sound she had heard. It was a loud crackling noise that ended almost as quickly as it began.

She cocked her head to the side, listening intently to see if she could hear the sound again. It seemed to be coming from somewhere in front of here but, thanks to the acoustics of the forest, it could be anywhere and she would not know.

That loud noise did not echo again but that did not mean that the quiet replaced it. In fact, as Sarah stood still, resting underneath the bare limbs of an overgrown oak tree, she could hear another sound. Though it would be one that she normally would associate with a gentle, calm and soothing sensation, the strange whirring sound frightened her.

"Is there… is there someone out there?" she asked, trying to keep the nervousness-induced tremors out of her voice. She succeeded but only just. "Hello?"

As she waited for some sort of response – she was not sure if she actually wanted someone to answer her or not – Sarah listened to the tell-tale sound of something being spun. Though that whirring sound did not stop after she yelled out into the woods, it did seem to fade until it was only a whisper being carried on the wind.

She waited for only a beat longer. The gong announcing that her seventh hour had completed had rang roughly fifteen minutes ago; she was, as far as she could tell, still in the thick of the woods. She wanted to get out of the Forbidden Forest as quickly as she could so that she would be able to hurry through the Bog of Eternal Stench (while holding her nose, of course) and have sufficient time to meet with Jareth at his castle. She knew, deep within her, that the final confrontation would be much more eventful than the last time they met. She wanted to have enough time to face-off with him; as she knew from experience, five minutes was not nearly enough.

Shrugging in a sorry attempt to convince herself that there was nothing to worry about – though she could thing of hundreds of things that she should be worrying about; must of them revolving around the Goblin Kind and his less than fair playing tactics – Sarah took a step away from the tree. As soon as the sole of her tennis shoe had settled against the ground, she heard another sound – and this one frightened far more than the earlier ones.

"Does she still got her head?"

Sarah turned said head around this way and that, trying to spy the creature that had spoken. It had not asked the question directly to her so she was not surprised when she heard a second voice reply – not surprised but scared.

"She does. We should take it."

Almost subconsciously – and definitely protectively – Sarah lifted her hands to her throat. She was frozen in place, though. She could hear them but she could not see them. She did not want to run forward or back in case she stumbled across them. Her actions did not make much sense, considering that, wherever the fireys were, they could see her. But, at that moment, logic and common sense were not playing a role in Sarah's decision making process.

"Can't take it," piped up a third voice. It sounded almost wistful. "King wants her head. Remember?"

The girl heard that and let out a tiny sigh. Right then, if Jareth popped up for another chat, she might have hugged him out of gratitude. She was rather attached to her head and, in same strange way, was intensely glad that Jareth felt the same way.

"Head! Take off her head!" A fourth voice chimed in and Sarah was beginning to wonder just how many of those vile, though fun-loving, critters were spread out around her. The last time she had run across them, there had been five of them, singing and dancing around a glowing bonfire. While they had seemed quite friendly at first, their games quickly proved themselves to be out of the mortal girl's league: they had a penchant for taking off their body parts – including their heads – and throwing them around.

"No head," said that third voice, still sounding sad. Then, as if an idea popped into its head, he spoke again, his tone much happier, "But we can have her arms or her legs, right? She doesn't need two of them and, if we have them, she can't run or throw our heads."

There was a chorus of cheers, followed by one of the voices hollering their cry of "Chilly down with the Wild Gang!", and then there was quiet. But not necessarily quiet – again, the silence was deafening. The fireys were coming for her.

Gulping, Sarah's stomach began to squirm. She wouldn't put it past the fireys to try to take some part of her body – or for Jareth to let them do it. After trying to take her head, and realizing that it was stuck on, they had then offered to remove her arm and her ears, one of them even yelling that they would get a saw to do the job right. And the Goblin King had not stopped them then.

So, her fifteen year old mind terrified that those furry firey's really would disassemble her, she had ran. Alone in the vast maze, but all the more determined to rescue Toby, she fled.

It was just as she found herself at the edge of the Forbidden Forest that she ran into a large wall, one of the many that cordoned the labyrinth. She had thought that all was lost as she fought to scramble up the side – until Hoggle appeared out of nowhere to save her.

But, as she reminded herself for the countless time, there would be no Hoggle this time. She had to defeat these fireys on her own.

Running had been the way she had gotten rid of them, for the most part, the last time. She was not sure that it would work this time – especially since she had not actually _seen _any of them yet, but there really was no other choice. Besides, she could not afford to spend any more time frozen in place; the quick pace of her run would help her get through the labyrinth all the faster.

Without another thought, Sarah began to hurry. She was running frantically and, as she moved, sidestepping trees and watching for rocks in her path, she tried not to equate this run with the ones she experienced in her nightmares. She had to remember that, this time, it was for real – she could not wake up and be safely tucked away in her bed. If the fireys emerged and captured her, she was done for.

Out of the corner of one of her eyes, she thought she might have seen the vivid red-orange color of the strange creatures. She half-expected the uneven gait of the creature to propel it right into her path, its wide green eyes staring at her with a mixture of amusement and madness.

But it didn't. She remained alone, though, every few feet or so, she could make out one of the fireys singing that strange song they had. And, as if the forest, on a whole, was the fire they were singing around, the air became dry and warm. Sarah could feel beads of sweat popping out along her forehead before dripping down the side of her face, once more plastering loose strands of hair along the flesh. She did not have the chance to wipe at it, though; it was hard enough to breathe as it was.

It was strange. The heat seemed to descend on her out of nowhere but, before long, it was unbearable. It weakened her but, in her frightened state, she refused to slow. She was convinced that the fireys were waiting just out of sight to pounce on her – she would not slow.

She was staring in front of her, eyes frantically searching an exit out of the forest. She could not remember running this long the last time she was there but, as she was re-learning, things were not always as they seemed.

That's when she saw it: there was an area of the woods that seemed as if it did not fit. There was a patch, about the width and height of a standard doorway that shimmered in a vague blue color. It was not an exit – it was not anything really – but, for some reason, the sight before her gave her some sense of safety. She could not explain why exactly she felt that way but something told her that, if she could just pass through that hazy cloud, she would be all right (or, as all right as she could be while trapped in Jareth's labyrinth).

Putting on an extra burst of speed, Sarah headed straight towards the fuzzy shape. She did not slow as it neared her and, before she knew it, she had passed right through it. Relief from that heat was instantaneous, as if she had just dived into a swimming pool on a hot summer day.

Breathing in the cool, refreshing air deeply, Sarah slowed her run until she had stopped. Then, leaning over so that she her hands were on the knees of her blue jeans, she continued to inhale and exhale briskly, catching the breath that the run had cost her.

It was only after she had calmed considerably, and she had stopped to look around at her new surroundings, that the sound she had earlier echoed loudly around the woods.

The whirring sound was back. And, strangely enough, Sarah was not frightened any longer; she did not have the energy with which to be afraid.

Instead, she was just curious.


	21. Part Twenty One: An unexpected turn

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

* * *

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

She had said that he had no power over her but it did not last.  
Three years later, Sarah finds herself up against Jareth for the second time.  
But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom.

* * *

Part Twenty One: An unexpected turn  
_Sleepwalker..._

* * *

The sound was so close that, if she did not know any better, Sarah would have thought that the reverberating noise was echoing inside her own mind. Her head rattled as she stood still and, in an attempt to fight that feeling, she took a step closer to the sound. It did not diminish but, at least, once she moved forward, her head did not ache so. In fact, she felt calmer.

The noise was soothing, she had to admit that. Though she did not know how exactly she knew or why she was so certain, Sarah had the idea that she was in another part of the labyrinth – a part that the fireys could not follow her into. She was safe… for now.

Sarah was glad. The soft melody was almost hypnotizing and the feeling of contentment it awarded her only increased as she moved onward. It was like she was in a dream; the whistling of whatever it was was beckoning her on. She held her hand out in front of her – just because it was captivating much of her awareness in a way that made her move, it did not mean that she was entirely under its spell; some common sense remained and she was a tad bit wary – but felt nothing.

There were trees surrounding her but that's all they did: surround her. If she was playing close attention, which, admittedly, she was not, Sarah might have noticed that there was an alive quality to the grove. The way the branches waved in the still air, the way the bark seemed to follow her pace…

Whether on purpose – or not – Sarah had found herself in the hidden corner of the Forbidden Forest. This patch of land, the grove which birthed the labyrinth, was the oldest part of the Underground and sourced the magick that kept the world running. Not just anyone could find its entrance and only those it felt worthy were able to cross over into the grassy knoll.

Of course, Sarah had no idea as to any of that. She just thought that this was another part of Jareth's labyrinth; that she could get through it, hopefully unscathed, as quickly as she could. As it was, she was just glad that she had made it out of that part of the Forbidden Forest and that the fireys were behind her. Though she was not looking forward to the Bog of Eternal Stench – that odor, as much as she tried, was one thing she could not forget about – it would be a huge relief to bid farewell to this wooded area.

Not really knowing where she was, considering she had been nowhere near this escape her first time around, Sarah decided it would be in her best interest to continue on her way. For one thing, her curiosity, coupled with the whirring that ran through her mind, would not be sated until she knew what that strange sound was. Besides, she _did_ still have more than three hours left.

* * *

He had not meant for it to happen. After the incident in the oubliette, he had returned to his throne room, ready to watch as Sarah fought her way through the next part of the labyrinth. It was exhilarating, watching his beloved guide herself out of the darkness without so much as an inkling that it was all a part of his intense orchestrations. By the time that Sarah had climbed the ladder and exited out into the rocky cove, he was content to just watch.

It was on a whim that he drew the assumed warning message into the rock. He had to battle the smirk that aimed to tug at his lips when Sarah barely batted her eyelashes at the words: _I'd turn back if I were you_. It was not so much a threat as a hint to her and it pleased him that she took it that way; perhaps, after their close encounter, she was finally beginning to follow his lead.

Things would be so much easier if she did…

But, as Jareth was quickly learning, all the magick that he currently possessed – his, as well as that of his father's – was not enough when the very essence of the labyrinth was involved. And there was nothing he could do about it.

It might have been an error of judgment on his part… and by might, he knew exactly where he had faltered. As soon as Sarah had emerged from oubliette he had created just for her, he had allowed himself a moment to dwell on her proximity. The sticky sweet remnants of the peach had stuck to his glove, as well as the lingering heat from her flesh. Placing that glove against his own cheek was the closest that he would get to the girl until the ten hour time limit had passed. But, the minor sensation that it awarded him had been enough to wrestle his attention from Sarah's progress.

The crystal that showed her determined expression as she quickly made her way out of that leg of the maze had hovered just out of his line of vision; he did not pay it much mind as he imagined that it was her hand alone that pressed against his skin. Lost in a fantasy that he hoped to achieve as truth, Jareth missed it when Sarah froze just outside of the Forbidden Forest. Nor did he see the nervousness that flittered across her face before she continued on her mission.

His attention was not drawn back to the image in the crystal until he heard the unmistakable sound of Sarah's voice. "Is there… is there someone out there?" His head jerked, his wild blond hair falling into his face as his chin slipped off of his slick glove. Silently cursing himself – and Sarah from drawing his attention away from, well, Sarah – Jareth extended his hand before plucking the crystal from the air. He was just in time to see a very nervous looking mortal girl glancing around as she called out, "Hello?"

He was very interested now. From the environment he could make out around her, he knew that Sarah had entered the Forbidden Forest while his attention was elsewhere occupied. She had not gone too far just yet but she was already psyching herself out – though he could not make out any neighboring sounds at all, she was yelling out to someone.

Though he assumed that she was, in fact, alone, it did not surprise him when he heard the fireys discussing an attempted dissection of Sarah. It was a bit disturbing to hear them talk about carving her up so freely but he did not worry; even if one of the furry creatures got their grubby hands on Sarah, he could whisk away and set them straight before they tried anything. And, besides, he had more faith in the girl – she would not succumb to the fireys.

He alone reserved the honor of breaking the girl. And then he would claim her as his own. A very worthwhile prize to his mind, one that he deserved and continued to strive for.

Yes, there had been quite a few unaccounted for snags in his master plan. Sarah's refusal to fall in her dreams (nightmares) had been one, as well as her spontaneous wishing away of herself. Then, of course, there was his father's intrusion and the upping of the stakes. But, he was feeling good about everything following the quick, yet meaningful, meeting in the oubliette. There had been an undeniable spark between them and he was almost certain that she felt it, too. If anything, he imagined that was the case – and it only served to heighten his own confidence towards the game. Not that he thought there was even the remotest chance that he was going to lose; he just wanted to make sure that Sarah understood when he won.

But, the run was far from over. He needed the girl to believe that she lost and, though he did not quite know how she was doing so, she was actually presenting the illusion that she was winning. The glass coffin had slowed her but had not done the trick of entirely infiltrating her worries as he had hoped. The vanity, courtesy of his father's breaking in on the magick, had tried to end it all but he had only just kept her in play.

And now…

As Jareth's mismatched eyes focused on the image before him, ears cocked to pick up any screams that might cross Sarah's lips, he watched as the girl hurriedly ran on. The fireys, he knew, inspired a great deal of fear in her – hence the reason he was pleased to see that the goblins had taken the initiative to add more of them to the forest – and it did not surprise him to see her flee from them.

It did, however, surprise the Goblin King to see Sarah run forward frantically, sweat popping out along her wrinkled brow. At first, he could not understand; she did not look so much afraid as uncomfortable. With her free hand, she was fanning at herself, panting, as if an unbearable heat had descended upon her. He quirked an eyebrow, interested. And that's when he saw it.

Sarah just disappeared. One step separated her from being there to being gone and he had seen it happen. Immediately he threw the crystal toward the tile in an attempt to transport himself from the throne room to Sarah's side. But, when the magick did not engulf him and he was left behind in the room, with a crystal that shattered rather than reformed in the forest, he leaned back in his throne, folding his gloved hands over his stomach.

Jareth sighed, not in defeat but in definite annoyance. He had _not _expected that. Understood what it meant, yes, but expect that the labyrinth would rebel against him when it came to his Sarah? Not at all.

"Oh, Sarah," he murmured, partly angry and, almost unbelievably, partly worried, as he spoke to the shattered glass that sparkled uselessly against the tile, "I'm sorry. I can not help you in there. You are truly on your own." He paused, his jaw clenching, before, "Damn."

There was only so much that he could do when it came to controlling the labyrinth. And, despite using the magick that his father lent him, entering in on the heart of the maze when he was most definitely unwanted was not something that he could do.

Damn indeed.

* * *

The heavy buzzing was growing louder and more intoxicating with every step she took. It was hard to see where she was going at this point; it was dark and the trees were growing much denser now. It seemed to Sarah that the trees were almost leading her in one direction – and that her destination lied at the darkest point, right where the trees met.

Normally, in such a situation, the girl would have been frightened. It was difficult to see even her very hands as she waved them before her eyes, let alone any critters that might be lurking in the woods. But she was not scared. There was no room for fear. Only interest towards whatever was making that noise.

And then, out of nowhere, it just stopped. The only thing she could hear was the frantic beating of her heart. "Hello?" she asked again, aware of how bad of an idea it was to call out into a dark forest when she had nothing to protect herself with. She did not think that anyone would answer her; she had the feeling that, whoever (or whatever) it was that was making the strange whirring noise, they had heard her approaching and that had caused them to cease. If that was the case, then why would they reply to her call?

Just as she assumed, there was no response – at least, not a verbal one. Sarah's eyes were temporarily blinded when a bright light emerged from behind that point where the trees converged. Her hand flew up to her face in an attempt to shield them from the glow. "Hello?" Her voice wavered this time. She took the sudden flare as proof that she really was not alone; she had no idea what to make of that. "Who's there?"

There was a moment when Sarah wondered if she should continue heading straight for the light. She weighed her options: on the one hand, the light could just be a sign that she was on the way out – there was no way to know for sure that someone unsavory was waiting for her on the other side of the trees. And, she _did _know that the fireys were out there, lurking back in the other part of the Forbidden Forest, planning various devious ways to separate her limbs from her body.

Shivering as she remembered the excited way the fireys planned on removing her arms and legs, Sarah knew there was no choice. Even if it was the Goblin King himself waiting for her in that lighted area, she would rather take her chances with him than those odd creatures.

She tip-toed quietly, careful of every step she took, as she approached the light that filtered through the towering trees. It was not as bright as it first was – the glow was dimming. Sighing, she started to move faster. As unexpected as the light was, it would be better to cross over into that section where she could see rather than grope around blindly.

So, with a determined sigh that was more reminiscent of a "do-I-have-to?" groan, Sarah made her way to the trees before pushing herself past them. She scratched her bare arm but ignored the small shock of pain; she was much too preoccupied with the sight before her to worry about a little blood.

It was another clear area, circular in size, surrounded by those same spooky trees that led Sarah to this place. The ground was littered with several inches-thick piles of leaves in various states of decomposition; the light she had made out was emanating from a simple bonfire that was in the center of the clearing. Besides that there was a large clump of forest refuse – made up of grass cuttings, leaves, twigs and certain things she could not make out, including something that might have been wriggling – that was too close to the fire for her liking. Going forward, Sarah stooped down when she was right next to the pile and reached for the mess. With the intent to push it away from the small, yet dancing, flames, she stuck her hand out.

But, before she made any contact with it, she paused. _Wait a second… _Narrowing her green eyes against the light, she thought, _That's a tiny fire… nowhere near enough to make that flash I saw before. Something isn't right here… _"What the—"

She cast her eyes from the fire to the garbage and back, trying to figure out what was wrong with this scenario – besides, of course, that she was back in the labyrinth again and, as such, _everything_ was wrong. However, just as she had felt upon entering through that fuzzy doorway, she was curious and not nervous. And, while she did not know how long that would last, Sarah decided to use that to her advantage.

Or, at least, that was her plan. But things have a way of changing ever so suddenly in the Underground and, at the heart of the maze, nothing was truer.

Just as Sarah stood back up, ready to just put the fire out and head out on her way – hopefully bypassing the rest of the Forbidden Forest, if she was lucky – she heard a noise. It was not the whirring that she had been listening to, and following, but something all the more attention-grabbing. She heard creaking – the sound of a set of old, weathered knees creaking.

"Hello, little girl. I've been waiting for you."

Perhaps it was not a pile of forest refuse, after all.

* * *

Author's Note: _Well, this was a much quicker update than last time ;) Hopefully the site is finally going to work for me and let me post it, eh? Anywho, this chapter is finally bringing us closer to one of the scenes I've been waiting to do. I hope you guys like it. The next one should be coming soon, giving the way that this one ended. Woot. And, I definitely was (and am, really) afraid of the fireys. I'm glad they came of across as frightnening as they did in this!_


	22. Part Twenty Two: A choice or two

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

* * *

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

She had said that he had no power over her but it did not last.  
Three years later, Sarah finds herself up against Jareth for the second time.  
But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom.

* * *

Part Twenty Two: A choice or two  
_Sleepwalker..._

* * *

The voice was no louder than a whisper on the wind but Sarah did not have any trouble hearing it. In fact, the simple, soft sound entered through her ears before wrapping itself around her very consciousness. In that voice – despite the very definite words it spoke – she could hear centuries, if not far longer, of thoughts, emotions… memories. She heard the tinkling of a virgin stream, the rumblings of vicious thunder, the soft, sweet melody of a baby bird's summer song… she heard _everything_ in that voice, so much so that she did not hear exactly _what_ this extraordinary voice was saying.

"I've been waiting for you."

Sarah shook her head slowly, her long ponytail swaying with the motion. This time, when the voice repeated itself, the impact had lessened. She still felt as if she had been wrapped in this awe-inspiring sound but it was not all encompassing; if she concentrated hard enough, she could actually hear what this voice was saying.

And what it _was _saying frightened her.

"Waiting? For me?" It struck Sarah, just then, how average – how absolutely _normal _– her voice sounded in comparison to this… whatever it was. Flat almost, and maybe gravelly; she sounded absolutely exhausted, to boot. She hurriedly swallowed, trying to coat her throat in liberal amounts of saliva so that, when she spoke again, she sounded a bit more _alive_. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't, dearie." That dry, creaking noise was heard again and, to Sarah's astonishment, the garbage pile started to move. It wiggled back and forth a few times before rising upwards. As soon as it had extended, it shook violently, sending much of the covering to the leaf-coated ground. "I didn't expect you too. Not yet, anyway."

Sarah squinted slightly. Using the light of the small bonfire, she peered at this creature. Without the forest refuse coating her, it was easy to distinguish the small _thing_ as female; she had thick, moss-colored hair that rested against her shoulders, covered in a bonnet made from woven dandelions, and wide, staring amber eyes. With what appeared to be papery thin brown skin, oversized pointed ears and deeply etched wrinkles underneath those strange eyes, the creature was quite elderly and, if Sarah had to guess her race, she would assume that she was some sort of elf. Of course, that was going off of various stories she had read, and images she had seen in fairytale storybooks. To be quite honest, she had no idea what she had chanced upon in this part of the forest – it was just easier to make assumptions.

The elf – if that's what she was – wore a tunic the color of fresh mud, only a few shades darker than her skin. She was quite round, almost lumpy, and had a hunchback, though that might have been because she was too old to stand up properly. The only thing that was beautiful about this creature was her eyes; that, and her voice.

Her side profile was presented to Sarah as she rose from the ground. There was a hole left behind when she rose that was quickly filled with scattered leaves, twigs and grass clippings. Before Sarah knew it, the small vacant space had vanished and the elf had crossed it, approaching her.

The girl had no time to be surprised at the speed with which this creature could hobble. The elf was standing right in front of her, placing a child-sized hand against Sarah's denim-coated thigh. At her full height, she only reached up to Sarah's waist. "You feel real."

Sarah did not know what to make of that. "Thanks… I think."

"No," replied the elf and the way she said the word – so simply but with an underlying strength – made Sarah wince, "You should not be this solid." She lifted her head to meet Sarah's gaze. "This is wrong."

Placing her hands behind her, Sarah bent down so that she was almost eye to eye with the elf. It was then, with only a few inches separating their faces, that she noticed it: this strange elf was blind. Besides the milky white pupils that were almost unnoticeable amidst the creamy color of her eyes, the elf had not flinched when Sarah moved down to be closer to her. And, at this close of range, the mortal girl could tell that those eyes were not really directed at her but, instead, at something that only the elf could see.

Feeling a bit foolish, and a tad bit guilty, she straightened. "I'm sorry but, what's wrong? I… I don't get it. Who are you?"

"You may call me Alva," the elf said, almost absently, still poking a rough finger against Sarah's thigh.

"Well, Alva," Sarah began, trying to sound both helpful and kind – it was the same voice she adopted when she had helped Karen to potty-train Toby – "My name is Sarah. Do you—"

"I know who you are, dearie," Alva interrupted, finally dropping her hand before turning around and hobbling back over to where she had, before Sarah found her, been lying on the ground.

"Um… yeah. Do you… do you need any help?" Sarah asked, her voice faltering as she watched the elf crouch down – the loud creaking of her ancient knees could be heard again – and begin patting against the leaves of the dirt floor. It was as if she were looking for a particular patch of the ground because, when she found it, she thrust her small hand right through it, letting the hole swallow her arm up to her elbow.

The elf did not respond right away. She was obviously searching for something hidden beneath the leaves and only that held her attention. Sarah continued to watch, extremely curious, until Alva straightened again; when she pulled her hand up with her, she was clutching a spinning wheel that was half as tall as she was. Yet, despite the obvious weight of the wooden wheel, the small, elderly elf did not struggle. She just set it down right in front of her, the wheel laying flat against the ground. Folding her knees under her, she sat down beside it. "Tell me, why are you here?"

Sarah jerked her thumb over her shoulder before remembering that Alva could not see the gesture. Again, she dropped her arm to her side. "You see, I'm just trying to get through the labyrinth. I found this part of the forest when I was runnng away from the fireys. I, uh, I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I'll just be on my way." Moving to her right so that she could go past the elf without stepping on her or her spinning wheel, Sarah started to walk away.

"Sarah," Alva said and the use of her name was enough to stop the girl in her tracks, "you know as well as I do that that was not what I meant. I'll ask you again… why are you here?"

Somehow, when she had first been asked that question, Sarah _did_ know what Alva meant. It was, however, not something she was willing to admit to herself, let alone to an _elf _she had happened to encounter while journeying through the labyrinth.

She was startled and her mouth opened in surprise. She did not know what to say.

That was alright, though. Alva only waited a few seconds for Sarah to respond before she continued, "I think I know why you're here. You are running, yes, but you are not running to be free, dear girl. You are running to be found."

Feeling her very face heat up in feigned indignation, Sarah placed her hands on her hips. The idea that this creature was telling her things that even she had not yet discovered did more than just unnerve her – it angered her. "Did Jareth put you up to this?"

"Jareth? Jareth…" Alva shook her head. "The youth knows not what he does, dearie. He threatens all for that which he does not understand."

If what Alva was saying was true, then Jareth – though it was really odd for Sarah to think of Jareth as a youth – was not the only one who did not understand. "What?" Confused, she let her hands fall restlessly back to her side.

Alva waved her hand once before letting the dark digits rest against the wooden spinning wheel. Her dead eyes focused back on Sarah's curious face. It was unnerving to the girl and she could not help but continue to wonder if Alva was able to see in a way that did not use her eyes. "If I offered you a way out of the labyrinth… right now… and it would be as if nothing had changed since you fe— since you returned… would you take it?"

She would be lying if she said that Alva's question did not catch her off guard. It took her a few seconds to digest what the elf was saying but, when she had, she stiffened. "I—I couldn't. If I quit, he'd just come for me later. I have… I have to face him. Now." Besides, she would never admit to Jareth that he had won because she couldn't handle the run. She would never quit; she would lose honestly first.

"Are you sure, Sarah?"

_Why is she asking me all these questions? And how does she know so much about me… and him? _Questions were continuously flitting through her head but she did not ask any of them. Instead, she just nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure. I can do this. I know I can."

It seemed as if the question was almost a gauge, a test to see if Sarah was worthy of what she was going to say next. At the very least, Alva nodded in return before extending her hand. "Come here, dearie. Let me see your arm. The right one."

If Sarah was curious as to why Alva was requesting that, she did not show it. Slowly, she lowered herself down, presenting her right arm to the elf.

Alva, using the pointer finger of her hand, poked at the inch-long scratch that had appeared on Sarah's bare arm after she had walked alongside a rather pointy tree limb. The cut had already clotted over but, after one quick touch, Sarah could see that a dribble of fresh, crimson blood had started to flow again. Alva swiped her finger over the blood, transferring the sticky liquid from Sarah's flesh to her finger.

After she had collected the small amount of blood – and, Sarah could see, once the elf had removed her finger, the small cut had healed almost immediately, without even a hint of a scar – she ran her finger down the edge of her silent spinning wheel. There was only enough to make a smear that covered a quarter of the rim but it was enough. And, with a strong pull, Alva spun the wheel.

Sarah only a few seconds to realize that the strange whirring she had earlier had belonged to this wheel before something else caught her attention. There, in the center of the wheel, an image had begun to show itself, as if the middle was some sort of strange television set. Though there was no sound, apart from the hypnotic whirring, Sarah found her attention captivated anyway.

Of course, that might have been because the image she was viewing featured her.

There was Sarah, looking just as she did now, except for one difference: she was crying. Not sobbing really, but (assumed) silent tears that cascaded down her cheeks. She was standing straight, her head held high, but she was, without a doubt, crying. And then she bowed her head. She appeared defeated. It was not a pose that Sarah adopted normally.

From the edge of the scene, another character appeared. Undeniably, it was Jareth – but this Jareth seemed different. In control as always, with a smirk on his face but, yet, different. He seemed vindicated, almost, as he extended his hand towards the girl. A gloved hand reached for her face, picking up her chin and lifting it so that he could meet her, eye to eye.

He said something, an inaudible conversation only indicated by the moving of his lips. There was a minor curl to those lips that he could not hide and it made the real Sarah uneasy. The Sarah in the picture just listened. And then, when he stopped, she moved her head in an up and down motion. Whatever it was that he had said to her, she was agreeing to it.

Jareth lowered his eyelids for just a second before drawing his hand back. He closed his fingers over his palm and, when he opened up his fist, there was a crystal sitting in the cup of his hand. He held it over Sarah's head and squeezed. THe crystal shattered, sending its remnants down to settle on Sarah's shoulders. Once the first bit of glitter had landed on her, the girl vanished.

The image focused solely on Jareth, and the satisfied expression his face was twisted into, before it faded to white. And then the scene ended, leaving Sarah alone with the sight of a slowly spinning wheel.

Before she could even comment on what she had just seen or what it meant, the elf took hold of the wheel and, with another strong jerk, spun it in the opposite direction. Her eyes were glued on the abnormally fast speed of the spokes; just like before, the spokes blending together and, once it was impossible to discern one from the next, a second scene began.

While the first scene she had viewed took place in a room in the palace that she was only familiar with from her dreams, the room she saw now was entirely known to her: it was the Escher room, the room with not top or bottom – only stairs. Her stomach flip-flopped at the memory and, without even knowing anything about what she would see, Sarah had a strange sensation that she knew.

When the image closed in on a pair – on Sarah and Jareth – facing off, she knew she was right.

Again, this Sarah was clothed just as she was now; this Jareth was wearing the same owl jacket that he had been clothed in during her last jaunt through the labyrinth. They were having a tense conversation and, from the looks of it, it was an indication of how this run through the labyrinth would end.

Jareth was almost towering over Sarah as the girl, quite unlike her, quailed before him. Sarah watched as her twin seemed to get a bit of her own back; the Sarah in the image straightened slightly as she offered some words back to Jareth. But Jareth just laughed and Sarah shook her head. Her hands were visibly clenched at her side.

The Sarah watching the vision was standing in the same pose. There was something about the way that Jareth was staring condescendingly down at the girl in the image that angered her. Perhaps because she knew that, in a few short hours, she would find herself in the very same stance.

_Or will I? _Sarah thought, thinking back to the first image she had viewed. Just then, she did not know what to expect. Right then, it was just easier to watch and be entranced by the strange things she was seeing.

But was she seeing it? The image seemed to stop in the middle of what it was showing her as it flooded with a dark color, blacking out the scene before her. The black only was visible for one singular rotation of the wheel before she could see the spokes of the wheel poking out through the color. This image, shorter than the first, was already complete.

Just then, the whirring stopped and, this time, Alva did not reach for the wheel. She let the wheel come to a complete standstill as she tilted her head back, giving Sarah the semblance that her blind eyes were searching her out. "You've just seen two different futures, Sarah. Both have the opportunity to prove true but the choice is up to you."

"But—but I don't know what to choose," Sarah argued. "I mean, I don't know what those two scenes were about and, even if I did, I couldn't pick either of them. Neither of them showed me like how I would act."

"I can explain the scenes, as best I can, but I can't explain your actions, child," Alva said and Sarah, picking up on the first part of the elf's sentence while disregarding the second, was confused. The elf was quite obviously blind. How could she have seen what the image in the center of the wheel revealed? Then again, Sarah had learned long ago that things were never as they seemed in the labyrinth; this was probably just another of those times. "The first scene showed you what would happen if you gave up, if you approached the Goblin King and begged to be released. He would let you return Aboveground but you would never be free from this place. You would always feel as if you belonged Underground. Everything would have been in vain."

Alva did not even need to see that Sarah was vehemently shaking her head at the very idea of giving up to know that the first option was not sufficient. Without wasting further time elaborating on the scene, she continued, "But the second scene is not the one you insist that you desire, Sarah. As you witnessed, that second scene shows you attempting to confront Jareth… but, if you choose that path, you must be sure that what you want _is _what you want. Any weakness and the King will be able to defeat you. Your strength is in how honest you are with yourself. If you can not find it in yourself to be true, you will fall. And you will, for once and for all, belong—" Sarah knew what she was going to say before the elf said it but the knowledge did not cushion the blow of those final words "—to him."

Sarah was still shaking her head but slowly, as if denying what Alva was telling her. Her green eyes were staring at the ground, her head lowered. "Why does one of them have to come true? Why can't things just go the way I want them to? It's… it's… I don't like this at all."

Alva awarded the young girl a warm smile as she struggled to bring herself to her feet. Using the wheel as support, she rose from the ground, the all-too-familiar creaking of her knees filling the small grove. Once she was standing, she reached for her wheel. A tiny hand fumbled for a few seconds before coming in contact with the worn wood; she grasped it and easily lifted it, hugging it to her diminutive chest. "There's nothing I can do for you now, dearie. You've come too far and seen too much. You didn't really expect to leave, did you? You're too real…"

Glancing over her shoulder, she waved her free hand behind her. Sarah's green eyes followed Alva's thin hand. The elf was gesturing at a hazy, blue cloud just a few feet away from where they stood. It looked just like the shimmering patch that she had run through to find herself in this part of the forest. Sarah could not help but think, despite the fact that she had gone forward, that it _was _the same shimmering patch.

"Just follow through to the exit and continue on, Sarah. Then, after you escape the forest, but before you encounter the Bog of Eternal Stench, you will come to a point where the road splits into two directions. Choose wisely. Your path will determine the course that your fate follows. Your very actions will lead you on. So, yes, choose very wisely…"

Sarah took three tentative steps toward the door-shaped space before pausing. She turned around. "What if—"

Her words were cut off when she clamped her mouth shut. There was no reason to continue. In the time that she had walked away from Alva, the elf had vanished; not even her small bonfire, or her spinning wheel remained. She was gone.

And Sarah was, once again, alone.

* * *

Author's Note: _New chapter, guys. And it's the longest one to date, too. I'm excited. And, if this seems a bit confusing, it's just because we're quickly approaching the end of the story. All of it will be explained before the story is entirely done. Until then, enjoy!_


	23. Part Twenty Three: A way to stall

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

* * *

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

She had said that he had no power over her but it did not last.  
Three years later, Sarah finds herself up against Jareth for the second time.  
But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom.

* * *

Part Twenty Three: A way to stall  
_Sleepwalker seducing me..._

* * *

Jareth did not know what was worse: not knowing what exactly Sarah was doing in the heart of the labyrinth or not having any understanding as to why the labyrinth, once again, was interfering in his ministrations. Oh, he had an inkling as to the labyrinth's purpose but it had never interfered on the side of the challenger before. And, as he was well aware, this was not the second time that the maze had tried to _help _Sarah; the trick with the vanity was still angering him every time he dwelled on it.

He was alone in his crystalline throne room, sitting on the edge of his seat. There was a newly formed orb grasped lightly between gloved fingers but, as it had been showing for the last quarter of an hour, the image was hazy and inverted. Splashes of vivid green and dark brown filled the crystal and he knew that his magick was working well enough that his scrying vessel was directed towards the Forbidden Forest. However, it was undeniable that the labyrinth's strength was noticeable and incredible; it was a strength that, since it always was on _his _side, he often underestimated.

He would not make that mistake again.

It was understandable, as much as he did not want to admit it, that the labyrinth was trying to free Sarah from his magick. As he noted while waiting for his father to arrive in the throne room, the labyrinth worked with him to ensnare its challenger—but only if the challenger was aware of the challenge. And Sarah, ignorant of the extents he had gone to secure her place in the Underground, was unaware that the run was over before it began. She could not win and, because there was no way for her to succeed except for forfeit, the labyrinth was continually offering her that option.

Escape. Without knowing what was going on in the heart of the maze—a place that he could not follow Sarah into if the labyrinth did not wish it; quite obviously, by the shattered crystal that remained on the floor, the labyrinth did _not _wish his appearance—he felt that the labyrinth was offering her another means for escape. He could only hope that the mortal child, already so involved, so entranced by the magick, would refuse.

Jareth's pointer finger was tapping anxiously against the curve of the orb, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the transparent glass. It seemed as if the picture was losing its haze and, while Sarah had not appeared in the crystal's center just yet, he was sure that his wait was almost over.

Suddenly, as if he had forgotten to expect it, a rather timid knock was heard coming from the door of the throne room. It did not startle him but his grip on the crystal did increase as he wondered who it was that was daring to interrupt him when he was at work. Barely lifting his gaze from the object in his hand, and hoping that his father had not returned to the castle, Jareth called out royally, "Enter."

The door slowly swung inward and a small shadow fell across the floor. Arching one of his thin eyebrows, Jareth forsook the crystal for a moment in favor of eyeing the goblin that was quickly walking towards the throne.

He was a smaller goblin than the household servant that Jareth had been dealing with all afternoon but, as possible as it was, he appeared more intelligent. His eyes were wide and staring but they were focused on the King rather than roving around absently; his gait was more even than the other—it looked almost natural for him to be standing upright.

The goblin was wearing ill-fitting armor but he took pride in the suit. His breastplate was shined and he carried a dented helmet under his arm. He was, obviously, one of the goblins who patrolled the Goblin City as part of the Goblin Army.

Jareth, after a moment's hesitation, recognized the goblin as the one called Glik. A smarter than average creature, he had been the goblin who first alerted Jareth that Sarah knew far more about the Underground—including the Goblin King's infatuation with a mortal girl—than he ever would have expected her too. For his observation and his utter loyalty, Jareth had bestowed the title of Captain of the Goblin Army unto Glik.

And now, now that Jareth believed he would have need for the Army's services, it was Glik that he had sent for. The goblin had arrived quickly and, if he had not been so preoccupied by the absence of Sarah's presence from within his crystals, he might have offered the goblin a smile. But he didn't—he barely offered him a frown.

"King Jareth," Glik squeaked, his voice a mixture of a high pitched whisper and a hiss, as he bowed in the direction of the Goblin King, "your majesty sent for Glik?"

Jareth did not answer right away. Suddenly aware that he was perched anxiously on the edge of his throne, Jareth slid smoothly across the padding until he had resumed his natural slouch. It would do no good, he knew, to let the goblin see he was ill at ease over a mortal's running of the labyrinth—even if said mortal _was _Sarah Williams. He was their king and, as such, he had a reputation to maintain.

Then, only when he was comfortable, did he answer. "Yes, Captain. How are the troops?"

It took the goblin a few seconds to understand that Jareth was referring to the forty or so goblins who were considered the Army that he commanded. Never would the goblin have considered the oddballs and misfits who completed the ranks as bona fide troops and his hesitation said as much.

But Glik, despite his outward appearance and the time it usually took him to comprehend even the simplest of questions, was one of the more intelligent goblins. Through a process of backwards thinking, it finally dawned on him that Jareth was asking about the others in the Army.

Nodding energetically, and almost dropping his helmet, he said, "The Army is good, King Jareth. Glik does what you ask and makes sure that we watch the City, sir."

"Good." Waving his hand as he swiveled in his seat, Jareth disappeared the crystal (not before giving it one last glance and finding that the Forest was still devoid of Sarah) and slung his breech-covered legs over the side of the throne. Adopting the tone and position of one who did not have a care in the world, he picked up the scepter that sat at the foot of the throne and absently started to tap it against the base of the throne. "Good," he repeated.

Glik, as many of the goblins who had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing just what Jareth's scepter could do in the way of cracking skulls and sending wayward goblins gibbering, watched the swing of the heavy rod. It was mesmerizing and it took most of his concentration to follow the scepter's path.

It went quiet then, with only the rhythm of the scepter's tap filling the room. Glik was uncomfortable, Jareth unconcerned as the tap-tap-tapping continued until the Captain could no longer take it.

He cleared his throat and bowed his head. "Does King Jareth need Glik and others?"

The tapping stopped and Jareth was surprised that his unsaid warning worked so well. Like he had done with the labyrinth, Jareth was underestimating one of the goblins now. Who knew that one of the creatures actually understood subtlety?

With a hint of a lazy, yet purposeful grin stretching his beautiful face, Jareth sat up a little straighter in his throne. "Why, yes, Captain. Now that you mention it, there is a… a task that I would like the Goblin Army to perform."

Glik gulped. Surprisingly, he had always been on the good side of the King. Ever since he had overheard the Sarah girl talking about the goblins and the Underground, Jareth had been nothing but kind to him for his information. But, just then, when he saw the predator-like quality to Jareth's smile, the little goblin decided that perhaps it would have been better if he stuck to taking care of the children that the labyrinth claimed. It was far too much to be in charge of a group that the King actually _required_.

"Yes, King Jareth? Glik will do whatever you want."

Jareth did not point out that such a statement was useless. Unless the underling desired a dip in the Bog of Eternal Stench, of course he would do what the King desired.

Instead, he decided not to mince words. Too much time had already passed in the company of this goblin; for all he knew, Sarah could have already emerged from the heart of the maze in the Forbidden Forest.

The idea that she might take the opportunity to leave him in the middle of this game did not even occur to him.

"There is a girl currently running the labyrinth—"

"The Lady?" Glik interrupted, intelligent enough to know to who Jareth was referring to but dumb enough to know that it probably was not the smartest thing to interrupt the Goblin King in his explanation.

Jareth's handle of his scepter tightened; the motion did not go by unnoticed by the goblin. Glik gulped and bowed his head even lower. "Glik is so sorry, King Jareth."

Ignoring the Army Captain's apologies—if all went according to his newly revised plan, he could forgive Glik for his transgressions; if not, then he would need someone to take his frustrations out on—Jareth frowned. "Yes. The… Lady," he said, torn between liking this name for Sarah and wondering where it came from.

Deciding against pursuing any line of questioning about it, Jareth continued, "She has already gone too far and she's quickly approaching the Goblin City. Now," he added, before Glik could interrupt him again, "I shall need the Army to guard the gate to the Goblin City as it usually does but, before that, I request that your troops attempt to stall her prior to their posts. Do you understand?"

The goblin's already misshapen head was cocked to one side and there was a wrinkle in his a brow that indicated that he was thinking. Jareth watched as the creature's mouth moved wordlessly before Glik nodded. "King Jareth wants Glik and the others to stop the Lady in… in the maze and… and in the Goblin City?"

Though he would never admit it, Jareth was quite impressed that the goblin truly had followed the explanation of his plan. He was not accustomed to relying on goblins when it came to the more intricate pieces of magick but they were the only creatures that were under his control; they were the only creatures he could entice, through loyalty and through fear, to aid him in this ruse.

The Goblin King nodded royally down at his subject. "Exactly, Captain. There is not much time left and it is important that as much gets used as possible before she arrives at the castle. Therefore, I would like as many troops as possible to go out and station yourselves immediately." Setting the scepter back down on the floor, Jareth moved in his seat so that he was once again sitting forward. "She's currently in the Forbidden Forest but she won't be there for long," he explained, still certain that she would be exiting the heart of the maze, "so I suggest that your ranks start with surrounding the Bog of Stench."

There was a fleeting look of terror that crossed Glik's face but Jareth was prepared for it. No goblins went near the Bog of Stench of their own free will, he knew, so he made sure to let the goblin know that this was not his choice. It was Jareth's.

Absently refitting the glove of his right hand, Jareth made sure to add, "And that's an order, Captain."

Almost unwillingly, Glik nodded. But then that wrinkle in his brow was back—he was thinking again. "King Jareth? How does Glik know that the Lady will be at the stinky bog?" There was a hint of hope in his strange voice.

Jareth took pleasure both in dashing the creatures hopes and admitting something he had noticed about Sarah very early on in this running of the labyrinth. "Because Sarah has a touch of… _sentimentality_ to her. She has, without realizing it of course, unwittingly tread a path very similar to the one she took the first time she came Underground."

Then, without giving Glik another chance to prolong this discussion—he didn't blame the creature; if it was him, he would surely do anything he could to stay away from the Bog of Stench—he stood up from his throne. His hands were folded behind him as he glowered down on the goblin.

"You have your orders and your directions, Captain. Please do not fail me," he said, his voice as sharp as the edge of a blade.

Glik did not need the silent warning that followed Jareth's statement. Jamming his dented helmet back onto his head, the goblin broke into a lopsided run halfway out of the throne room.

* * *

Author's Note: _I know it's been _ages _since the last time that I even touched this story but, as I'm trying to finish quite a few of the stories on this site, I decided it was high time to return to _Sleepwalker_. It's one of those stories that I always intended to get done because of the mystery-type nature to it and, I'm glad to say, it's already pretty far along. Plus, I already have most of the next chapter planned out, too. Until then, enjoy! And, of course, any reviews about the story would be highly appreciated ;)_


	24. Part Twenty Four: A moment of thought

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

* * *

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

She had said that he had no power over her but it did not last.  
Three years later, Sarah finds herself up against Jareth for the second time.  
But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom.

* * *

Part Twenty Four: A moment of thought

* * *

_Obsession_.

The word sounded strange inside his head and, now that he was alone in the throne room again, he let his lips wrap around the three syllables.

"Obsession," he murmured, his voice low and throaty, as he adjusted his seat on the throne. Running his gloved hand alongside the arm of the great, glassy chair, Jareth repeatedly called that singular, simple word to mind.

He did not know where, exactly, it came from—it was, as soon as Glik fled from the throne room, just there. As if some more powerful being had implanted the notion into his mind, the Goblin King could not help but wonder if his fixation, his _love _for Sarah Williams, was perhaps something more than he perceived it to be.

There was a difference, he knew, between wanting something and aiming for it and risking everything, doing anything he could, to take what he wanted. The mortal girl, for too long now, had been the only thing on his mind and, though he would scarcely admit it, not even to himself, Jareth was only satisfied when his focus was on her.

Was it right? Of course. Was it fair? It didn't matter. Was it an obsession? He didn't know and, up until that moment, he didn't care.

But now…

Maybe it was because the interference of both his father and of the labyrinth, itself, but Jareth was beginning to question his actions. He had known, ever since he first let Sarah escape his grasp, that he would not rest until the debt had been repaid. As far as he was concerned, when Sarah had been allowed to return Aboveground with her half-brother in tow, he had been robbed of a most worthy prize. It was only just that, now that he had the ability to go after her again, his prize be returned to him.

When the eighteenth anniversary of Sarah's birth came and went, when his magick had been able to touch her again, he had lost no time in attempting to reclaim her. And, while the attempts were, at first, simple, this spell was quite the opposite. If it was true, if his infatuation with Sarah had turned into an obsession, then the extents he had gone with this recent run were understandable.

But, if it wasn't an obsession, then what was he doing? Was such trickery, such an obvious ruse, worth it just to even the score?

And, likewise, if it _was _an obsession, then how did a simple mortal child manage to wrap one of the most powerful monarchs of the Underground around her very finger with nothing more than a sweet smile, a stubborn attitude and the assurance that the world could, given certain circumstances, be fair?

It was a subject which the Goblin King preferred not to dwell on. This was not the first time that he questioned Sarah's underlying strength and the effect she had on him—but it was the first time that the word, the very accusation of loss of control, flittered across his mind.

The word was no longer flittering; as he continued to absently caress the polished armrests of his familiar throne, Jareth could not shake the word loose from his mind. He did not know where, precisely, that accusation was coming from but he did know one thing: sooner or later he would have to deal with the repercussions of said accusation.

It would just have to wait until Sarah's time was up. Only then, when the girl was finally his, would he be able to understand the lengths with which he had gone to secure her freedom for him…

Jareth shook his head regally, letting his blond hair move with the motion before settling back on his shoulders. He _was _the Goblin King, after all. What did it matter, really, if his fixation with Sarah was more than that? It had taken him time enough to figure that his fixation was more akin to affection than fascination; if the fixation had subtly turned into an obsession, did it matter? As long as, in the end, the results were the same and Sarah was his—as she should be—what did it mean to him if he obsessed over the mortal girl?

As far as he was concerned, the strong urge he felt to keep Sarah to himself was not so much as an obsession as it was love.

And, with that thought in mind, Jareth lifted his hand from his throne and held it out in front of his chest. He had let Sarah manage on her own for too long as he overrun his own thoughts and he was anxious to ascertain that he was still in his grasp.

A crystal was formed without so much as a sound. Gripping it loosely, Jareth quickly cast an eye over the glass before curling his upper lip in a satisfied smirk.

His pawn was back in play; it was time for the game to continue.

All the King had to do now was wait.

* * *

The gong had already chimed, three deep rings to let the girl know that only three hours remained until her run was finished, but Sarah was still standing in the same part of the labyrinth where she had met Alva. There was no sign that the elderly elf had even been there—not even the forest refuse remained—but that was not what was bothering Sarah. The fact that Alva's sudden appearance and even more sudden disappearance had left her with only unanswered questions and a curious sense of indecision was what was making Sarah's hands tremble.

She could feel the nervous sweat that was collecting on her palms and, almost without realizing it, she wiped her hands on her jeans. Swallowing in an attempt to settle her currently unsettled stomach, Sarah eyed the hazy, shimmering blue patch in front of her.

It looked just like the strange piece of space that had brought her to Alva in the first place; she assumed that exiting through the similar patch would bring her right back into the Forbidden Forest. However, considering that there were headhunting fireys haunting the forest, she was not too sure that she really wanted to go through that exit.

And that's not to mention that Sarah was still thinking about the two visions she had seen. If she left this safe haven in favor of returning to the dangerous maze, then that meant that she would have to face those visions—she would have to make a decision.

She did not _want _to make that decision. Neither one of those visions were scenes she wanted to act out; neither one was the outcome that she had envisioned when she first called on Jareth to whisk her away for a second chance at her freedom.

Right?

In the back of her mind, lurking in the recesses where Sarah feared to tread, the idea that perhaps she _did _want to stay was currently fighting to be heard. She did not know where that thought was coming from and could only assume that it was some further try of Jareth's to trick her into wasting time.

It was much, much easier to blame the Goblin King for everything rather than take the blame herself. He was the villain, after all, and she was the victim.

No, she was the heroine and she _was _going to defeat him…

She had the sickening realization that she would only be able to truly understand the role she had to play if she _did _defeat him. He could not be invincible; she couldn't feel for someone that was all-powerful and emotionless.

Sarah jammed her hands in her pocket and bit down on her bottom lip. Her lips were dry so, after removing her teeth from the skin, she ran her tongue along both her lips. There was a nervous pang in her stomach when she tasted a hint of the sticky, sweet peach juice that remained hidden in the corner of her mouth.

Though her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she was still hungry, the peach reminded her—as if she needed another reminder—of Jareth. It had been less than an hour since she last met the Goblin King but, as she tasted the memory, she could still feel the weight of his mismatched stare.

But it did not make her feel as strange as it did when she was standing right next to him. Instead, she felt reinvigorated. She felt recharged. There may only be—removing her hand from her pocket Sarah checked the time—two hours and fifty-two minutes left, but she could do it. How much of the labyrinth could be left anyway?

Widening her green eyes in determination, Sarah glared at the exit. It was all but daring her to pass through it and she purposely strode right in front of it, heading toward the space with the air of one who was not prepared to stop for anything… or anyone.

She took a deep breath and walked right through the hazy blue patch. Though she could not have been in that strange part of the Forbidden Forest for more than twenty minutes, Sarah had forgotten how hot the forest had been before. The remnants of the sweat that had plagued her was gone, though her hair was frizzing slightly in the front; her skin felt clammy and sticky as she stepped through the shimmering space but there was no heat to welcome her as she crossed over.

It did not look any different to her—she was still surrounded by trees—and, as if her body was moving on its own, she spun around. Without really knowing, Sarah had the suspicion that, when she turned back, the entrance into Alva's part of the Forbidden Forest would be gone.

She was right.

She spun around again. She did not want to lose her way and, as she started to hurriedly move forward, she was pretty sure that she could hear the fireys as they continued to search for her. There was a strained holler of _something_ that echoed into her ear but she did not want to remain in the dark forest long enough to find out what it was.

Apart from the strange cries that filtered in and out around her, Sarah did not hear anything else save the sound of her sneaker-ed feet as she went from a brisk walking pace to a quick jog. Inherent nerves coupled with the realization that it had been quite some time since Jareth had appeared before her propelled Sarah onward.

Moving so quickly, Sarah covered much ground. Though the scrape on her arm had been healed after the elf had touched her, she kept her arms tucked in at her side so that she would not knock into any of the rough bark of the trees. Every few steps she glanced down so that she wouldn't trip—the scenes from her past dreams were vivid enough just then that she remembered every time she tripped and fell while running from Jareth's voice—but her path was, strangely enough, quite clear.

If she had been thinking more clearly—or, instead, along those same paranoid, suspicious lines as she had been ever since reentering the labyrinth—she might have wondered about that. But, the truth was that she was so hyped up on renewed determination and bursts of adrenaline that she was just pleased that nothing was slowing her down.

The echoes of the fireys had been left behind her and, as she ran on, the trees seem to thin. Light was pouring in through the space and the fear she had been battling during her trip through the Forbidden Forest was abating. There was a relieved smile, a triumphant smile, that was forming on Sarah's tired face.

_I'm almost done with this forest, _she thought to herself, _and after that there's only the Bog of Eternal Stench to get through and then… _She shook her head. As she remembered from the last time that she was in the labyrinth, it was right after the Bog that Hoggle gave her Jareth's enchanted peach. The drugged fruit had not only brought her into a garish masquerade ball in order to dance with the Goblin King, himself, but it had led her into a great junkyard littered with her dreams and, probably, the dreams of countless others.

She knew the labyrinth was vast and that she had only seen a small portion of the great maze when she was last in the Underground. However, considering much of this path mimicked that of her first one, Sarah wondered if the Bog would lead her into the same scenario. It would be just like Jareth to do that to her, she knew. And now she was wary.

There was no doubt in Sarah's mind that she was already heading towards the Bog of Eternal Stench. Without even thinking about it, she had already started to breathe in shallowly through her mouth in an attempt to spare her nose. The horrendous stink that oozed from the dreaded Bog was already filling the air and overpowering her senses—and she wasn't even there yet.

She dared another glance down at her watch. Ever since leaving that strange part of the forest, she could see that was making excellent time. As long as nothing—or no one, she added silently—got in her way, she was growing confident again that she would make it to the Castle in time.

What did it matter, really, if she had to go the same way to reach the Castle? If the path was true, and she made it in time, wouldn't it be worth it to relive her past? In fact, wouldn't it be better to tread the same path a second time, especially if this second run was done with the expressed intent to forget all about it?

Sarah rubbed her forehead, trying to forestall the headache that was threatening to overtake her. Slowing her run, she felt the tiredness creep over her but she did not pause. She had made it that far, after all, and, as she lifted her head up, she could see that the Forbidden Forest was giving way to another series of rocky walls.

She had made it out of the dark, foreboding forest in one piece.

The thought was most welcome and it was enough to make her feel better about remembering the last time she had been there. The last time, Hoggle had been the one to save her from the forest; this time she had saved herself.

Nodding to herself, a touch of pride and satisfaction in the gesture, Sarah resumed her quickened pace. Alva had told her that, once she left the Forbidden Forest but before she stumbled upon the Bog of Eternal Stench, that she would have to make a decision.

And, after striding forward purposely and walking in, around and through a series of small walls, Sarah made one.

The last set of walls had deposited her into a small area. The area was wider than it was long and there were two paths that a prospective maze-walker could take; the room was split into two doorways, leading into two directions.

There were no guards this time, there were no doorknockers to help her make a choice. But that was alright. She didn't need their help. She was done with playing by the labyrinth's ever changing rules, she was done with overanalyzing every step she made while Underground.

She stopped in front of the two open doorways. Then, without even giving it another thought, she reached into her denim pockets. When she had still been in the Forbidden Forest and her frustration had led her to place her hands into her pockets, Sarah had found that she had some change stowed in their depths.

As she stood there, she removed one faded, dirty penny from her pocket. She squeezed it tightly for good luck before tossing it into the air and catching it in her open palm. Flipping it over quickly, she settled the worn coin on the top of her left hand before covering it with her right.

"If it's heads, then I'll take the right door," she murmured to herself. She knew this was a simple way to make such an important—or, at least, the elf had made her think it was so important—decision but, when in doubt, heads or tails was the best way to go. She didn't have much more time to waste and the sooner she was on her way, the better. "Tails, I'll take the left."

She lifted her hand up and, without a second look at the coin, she pocketed the penny before turning towards the entrance on her right side.

"Right it is."

* * *

Author's Note: _I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I was a little bit nervous that no one would remember this story and it was great to see that a bunch of you did :) Now here's the next chapter. Enjoy_


	25. Part Twenty Five: A stench to remember

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

* * *

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

She had said that he had no power over her but it did not last.  
Three years later, Sarah finds herself up against Jareth for the second time.  
But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom.

* * *

Part Twenty Five: A stench to remember

* * *

It was still and quiet along her chosen path and she had the vaguest idea that she probably should have gone to the left rather than the right but, as per her new outlook, she was not one to question the decision of her penny. Almost stubbornly, Sarah half-walked, half-jogged forward, all in an attempt to outrun any lingering doubts.

After leaving the Forbidden Forest and entering into the core of the labyrinth, Sarah had heard nothing but the sounds of her feet padding hopefully across the cobblestones. The sound of the echoing chimes seemed to ring repeatedly in her ears, drowning out her dogged steps, even though it had been a full forty minutes since the last time they rang; it was so quiet that the foreboding chimes, an ominous memory, seemed to play continuously through her mind.

Though the reminder was an annoying one, she felt it was better to focus on her auditory sense—even if the sense was conjuring up the ring of a chime that had long since passed—than her sense of smell. This path, including the split that had led her down this road, was not the one she had taken in the past but there was no denying that, just in front of her, she was quickly approaching the Bog of Eternal Stench.

She could see it in the not too far distance and, as she hesitantly slowed her pace but kept nevertheless moving onward, she could hear the faint popping sound that accompanied the Bog of Stench and the stench-filled bubbles that constantly rose from within its murky depths. With every step—which were getting slower and slower as her breathing became shallower; she couldn't fight the pretense anymore and her fingers were tying in vain to pinch her nose—the scent was becoming unavoidable, overpowering.

The stench was unbearable, and the continued heat made it worse. Whether or not Sarah was blissfully picking and choosing her repressed memories, she was convinced that the magnitude of the rancid smell was far beyond the one she remembered. Tears had sprung to her eyes, she was fighting back a gag or two as she strode purposely on; she could actually _feel _her olfactory senses shutting down as she faced the Bog.

In a desperate attempt to focus on anything but the horrible, horrible stench, Sarah rested on her heels for a moment, taking the chance to get her bearings as she looked around her. The area looked just as it had the last time she was Underground, she noticed; not much had really changed.

Remnants of her first journey through the labyrinth were still standing. She could see that the ledge that had collapsed under her and Hoggle's combined weight was still broken, bits and pieces of the fallen masonry partially jutting up from the Bog's muddy, thick surface.

Also, as she peered even further into the distance, Sarah could make out the makeshift rock bridge that her old friend, Ludo, had created for her. A wistful smile curved her thin lips at that memory, the memory of the hairy red beast crying out, calling to his 'friends', the rocks. Ludo, loyal and friendly if somewhat frightful looking, had been able to convince the rocks that lurked in the hidden depths of the Bog of Stench to rise to the surface in order to create stepping stones for the young mortal girl to cross the Bog's width; she had done so, then, without a single toe dipping into the smelly water.

While the rocks, dirty and covered in moss and lichen, remained in the same place they had assumed those three years ago, Sarah couldn't help but notice that the ancient bridge—which, like the ledge on the outskirts of the Bog of Stench, had fallen apart beneath her feet; it had been, she could only assume, another trick of the Goblin King's—had not been repaired since she left the Underground.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, that fact sparked a bit of interest. When she first started this second run, everything had seemed so different. The clock was different, the gate was different… even the dwarf patrolling the entrance was not the same. But then, with the obvious exception of her encounter with Alva in the Forbidden Forest, things were slowly beginning to match her first run through the labyrinth.

She had found herself in an oubliette—again. She, perhaps foolishly, had accepted a peach from the Goblin King _and _had taken a bite—again. The fireys were, regrettably, all too familiar, as was the Bog of Eternal Stench. Not to mention that she had encountered Jareth far too many times already.

That, in and of itself, was something else for her to worry about. It seemed as if every time she thought she was getting somewhere in the labyrinth he was there—distracting her, too, always a distraction. From the invasive mind-reading trick to the stunt pulled with the glass coffin to that last tension-filled meeting in the oubliette. Jareth was effortlessly siphoning her allotted time away from her—and he didn't even need to re-order time again to do it.

Vaguely—and she cursed herself for it—Sarah wondered what the Goblin King was doing at that very moment. It had been quite some time since they last met and, honestly, that worried the girl. She could only imagine what trickery he was currently working on now that she had made it so far as the Bog of Eternal Stench. Or, maybe, he was watching her, waiting for her to let him in again.

After all, she knew, it was following her crossing of the Bog that poor Hoggle had taken the opportunity to present her with Jareth's gift—that damn peach—the last time…

The idea that perhaps he could be, at that moment, watching her, planning his next move, sent a rush of hot feeling through her. Whether it was anger or… or something else entirely, Sarah wasn't sure, but she did know one thing: if he _was _watching her, she didn't want him to see how much he—or, rather, his labyrinth—was affecting her, how much it was all getting to her.

Slowly lowering her pinching fingers from her tired nose, with the airs of one who had no idea how those blasted fingers had gotten there in the first place, Sarah tried to look as if the foul stench wasn't bothering her in the least. She willed some color back into her flushed cheeks and suavely ran her hand across her frizzing hair, praying that the action would leave the strands smooth; it didn't work, of course, and it left her looking like she had stuck her finger in an electrical socket.

A determined, if shaky, expression was struggling to control her obviously exhausted face. Sarah placed her hands in her back denim pockets, letting out a quick, relieved breath as she did so.

Despite the nerves that had descended upon her at the thought that Jareth might be watching her, she felt confident. With the rocks still in place across the Bog, forming a quasi-bridge that spanned across the murky water, all she had to do to continue on her journey was to carefully make her way over them. Then, as quickly as she could, she could flee into the next part of the labyrinth.

She wasn't _too_ nervous. Whatever came next, it couldn't be worse than the terrible odor of the Bog of Stench.

With a bounce in her step that had been absent for most of this run, Sarah approaching the Bog. However, she had only taken three or four steps when she stopped suddenly, her green eyes alert and wide. She did not turn her head just yet, but she did not need to. The hairs on the back of her neck was standing up, standing at attention, and she could hear—amidst the ooze and the pops that emerged steadily from the Bog—the audible sound of someone—or some _ones_—trying their absolute best (and failing) to be silent.

Sarah gulped, out of some sort of reflex, as her hands began to tremble slightly. It was her nervous system starting up, preparing her body either to fight or flee. It all depended on her pursuer's next move.

Because, she wasn't sure when it happened or how, she wasn't alone anymore.

* * *

It was all a great show and, if the stakes had not been so dire, Jareth thought he might actually enjoy watching a challenger run their course for once. It was rare to find someone who was quite the match for his labyrinth, making it as far as the Bog of Eternal Stench, and rarer still that they could surpass such a foul part of the maze; most of the capable contenders, if they ever got so far, were bested by the ripe and horrid odor of the Bog.

But not Sarah.

Oh, she was pretending that it was nothing, standing on the outskirts of the Bog, but he knew better. The cost of her lie—even if she was lying to herself—was written all over her face. It was difficult to breathe, and her color had never been so wan before; she had let herself pause for a moment, not too far from the Bog's festering edge, and she looked as if she was ready to faint.

He watched her, watched her every move with the steely edge and fixed gaze of a bird of prey. Nothing could interrupt his focus now that she was back in his sight; not even Sarah herself could steal his attention from watching her every step.

Jareth was not quite sure what had happened to the girl while she was disappeared from his crystal but, apart from a quickened step and that repeated determined glare, she did not seem any different to him. He could only hope that the labyrinth had not interfered more than it should, not given away any information that Sarah had no claim to.

If there was one thing that the Goblin King had learned after centuries of lording over the maze, the challenger was worthy of nothing, be it aid or information or even mercy. They were attempting to conquer the labyrinth because they needed to, not because he wanted them to or even cared if they did. With the single exception of Sarah, he had never been so interested in a run before—as long as he received his spoils, his prize, in the end, what did it matter?

Almost absently, Jareth reached up and flicked one thick strand of hair out of his face. He needed all of his concentration to witness what was going to happen now; from Sarah's body language and the cues she was unknowingly giving him, he knew that further pawns were being utilized to the best of their ability. They would not harm the girl—even if it was an order, one he could never give, he knew the creatures were too attached to the idea of a queen that they would never lay a claw on her—and they were too, well, stupid to do anything but slow her, but it would, at least, be slightly entertaining.

Besides, if Sarah was going to be the Goblin Queen, she needed as much experience handling his subjects—including the ridiculous Goblin Army—as she could get.

* * *

"Hello?"

There was no response but, to be honest, Sarah was not expecting one. If whoever was surrounding her, following her, wanted to be known, they would have approached her; they would not, in that case, answer her call. Unless…

"Hello?" she said again, louder this time, as she removed her hands from her back pockets and placed them assuredly on her hips. Letting her gaze look first to her left, then to her right, she tried to spy her would-be pursuers. "Listen, I know you're out there. Why don't you just show yourselves?"

She was proud of herself. Her voice had not wavered once; she sounded much more confident than she actually felt. She just hoped that her bluff paid off, that her hunch was right. Otherwise, she would be in trouble.

Her words were followed by an obvious quiet, made even more obvious by the fact that even the faint rustling of leaves had paused. It was a manufactured quiet, an unnatural silence. There was no doubt in Sarah's mind that she was not alone—and, by the size of that enforced noiselessness, there were quite a few… somethings around.

That's when she heard it. Somebody sneezed.

Sarah whirled around, her arm extended and her finger pointing wildly. Her body was running on pure adrenaline, reacting with the fight response. It had been unnerving enough to wonder if the Goblin King was watching her every move; it was even worse to know that there really was someone watching her secretly.

"Ah-ha!" she cried, not even thinking once that it could be some wild, man-eating beast lurking somewhere she could not see. "I heard that!"

The invisible sneezer, when confronted with Sarah's disapproving finger, was not sure was he should do. Orders were orders and Captain Glik had told him that he was not to do anything until the Captain said 'Charge!'. Then, when the Captain said 'Charge!', he was to join all the other goblins in the Goblin Army and do his best to try to waylay the Lady. But, of course, that was before the Lady, herself, had turned on him. And, with the Goblin King's favored lady standing not more than a few feet away from his position, there was only one thing he could do.

"Um—charge?"

Though the word was not really yelled, and it was said more like a question than an explicit order, the goblins heard the word and—with the exception of one—they all revealed their location to Sarah. They had, per Captain Glik's orders, surrounded the mortal girl and, they were, as one, suddenly charging toward her. They had the element of surprise on their side and, while Sarah stared in utmost surprise that a majority of the Goblin Army was rushing her, they were doing exactly what Jareth wanted them to do.

The only goblin that remained hiding was Captain Glik. As far as he remembered, he was the one in charge—he was the one who was supposed to say 'Charge!'—but the voice he heard had not been his. He puzzled over that for a few seconds more before realizing that an order was an order, no matter where it came from. Then, jamming his dented, misshaped helmet onto his head so that he wouldn't lose it, Glik raised his weapon and joined the fray.

* * *

Author's Note: _Wow, those were some really kind words about the last chapter. I hope that you guys enjoy this one as much as that one. It's a little shorter than I wanted it to be but I thought I'd save the next scene I have planned for the beginning of the next chapter—it'll be interesting, I tell ya. And we're getting so close, too!_


	26. Part Twenty Six: A face from the past

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

* * *

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

She had said that he had no power over her but it did not last.  
Three years later, Sarah finds herself up against Jareth for the second time.  
But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom.

* * *

Part Twenty Six: A face from the past

* * *

Sarah didn't know if she should laugh or cry. It was one thing, to be caught in the center of an ambushing army—but, when the advancing forces were comprised of knee-high goblins, half of which were running with their weapon pointed the wrong way, one had to admit that it was kind of funny.

As possible as it was, considering the lapse of time since she had last met a goblin and the fact that many of them shared the same sloppy features, she thought these goblins looked familiar. At the very least, they acted just like the last Goblin Army she had faced—reckless, untrained, yet determined to stop her from continuing on. Of course, though, the last time they had met she hadn't been alone; with Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus at her side she had been invincible. The goblins weren't really soldiers then and their king was just a bully… but not now.

The Goblin King, as much as she didn't want to admit it, was the one in control. He was the one with the power of time at his command, the one with an army, the one with the labyrinth—and she was just plain old Sarah Williams.

But, wait… if she _was_ just plain old Sarah Williams, then why was Jareth going to such lengths to stall her? Surely he didn't expect her to actually succeed, that she would actually get to his castle in time? Because, she remembered, the Goblin Army had guarded the entrance to the Goblin City, not the Bog of Eternal Stench.

Whatever it was, Sarah did not have time to think about it. An armed ambush comprised of a goblin cadre was still an armed ambush. Even though half of them were charging with their weapons armed away from her, the other half had figured out that it was much smarter to keep the point bit as far away from themselves as possible.

Sarah didn't know what to do. Except for her journey through the Forbidden Forest, with the fireys on her trail, she had never really thought that she was in any true danger. But now, with all of these armed goblins rushing toward her, she had to admit that she was slightly frightened.

Using her eyes, she quickly looked for something that she could use to fight back against the goblins. There were rocks lying around but most of them stood in some part of the Bog; if she touched them, she would get Bog water on her. Since that was not an option, she wondered if she should just turn and run. The goblins, she noticed, had not done a great job of surrounding her entirely; there was an opening and, if she hurried, she could get through it and keep running until she made it back to the Forbidden Forest before the goblins noticed she was gone. There was definitely a benefit to being twice the size of the creatures; her legs were much longer than theirs.

Sure, if she turned and ran towards the Forbidden Forest, she would be backtracking on her journey but, in the end, wouldn't it be worth it? If she was still in one piece when she confronted the Goblin King, wasn't it worth a couple of minutes?

However, Sarah did not need to answer that question. Just then, just as she was preparing to retreat, she heard a loud thump followed by what could only be described as a one person battle cry. It sent chills down her spine and she hoped against all hope that, whoever it was, they were on her side.

She was not alone in turning to search out the source of the voice. Every single one of the goblins stopped in their tracks and turned towards a little hut that had been, up until that moment, ignored. Standing in front of it, a pointed lance held tightly in his grasp, was a small, fuzzy-looking creature wearing an eye patch, a fair-colored moustache and a blue hat with a yellow-feathered plume in it. A mix of a lapdog and a cunning fox, he waved the lance warningly in the air before lowering it, the point accurately facing the Goblin Army, and running forward.

"I'll get thee, foul goblins! Not again will thee try to capture the mighty Sir Didymus. I shall fight thee to the death!" He spared a glance back at the hut. "Come, Ambrosius!"

There was a shy, if somewhat hesitant, sheepdog that was still standing in front of the hut. He woofed hopelessly as his master began to fight but knew it was pointless; after the small fight early that morning, the master had been itching for a true battle. He waited a few seconds before performing the dog equivalent of a shrug and lumbering forward to help.

Sarah watched in amazement as the tiny knight began to attack the entire Goblin Army single-handedly. If she had not been so delighted to see him, she would have been impressed to see how the cadre reacted to his presence. Weapons were lowered and feet were raised as they each attempted to turn and run rather than fight him.

Sir Didymus was not prepared to let the goblins leave without a fight. He was a quick one and deceptively strong for his size; he was able to reach one of the slower (or, perhaps, stupider) goblins and, with an echo of his battle yell, tossed him into the Bog of Eternal Stench.

Barely any of the goblins were hanging around at that point but the few who had neglected to disappear entirely did once they saw that one of their number was now covered in Bog water. They were resigned to do anything their king asked of them but there were limits to loyalty; for the goblins, the Bog of Stench was one of them.

Didymus offered taunts and cries as he tried to goad any remaining goblins into a fight. Very soon, none remained and, when he saw that another battle had been thwarted by his might, he banged his lance against the dirt. He was not too far from where Sarah stood, watching in mild amusement at how the knight had barely changed in the time that passed since she first visited the Underground. Strangely enough, though, he didn't look at her; instead, he ignored her entirely.

"Good show, Ambrosius," he said, reaching one small hand out to reassuringly pat the massive (yet undeniably cowardly) sheep dog that served as his steed. "That'll teach yon goblins to invade our part of the great maze."

The little knight was standing at the edge of the water, a satisfied grin barely visible underneath his moustache. His back was to Sarah but, when she finally found a voice and called to him, he did not react. It was as if he hadn't heard her voice at all.

That surprised Sarah and she hesitantly took a step towards the knight. She did not want to startle him—his lance was still in his hand—in case he attacked first and asked questions later. Assuming his eye patch had blocked her from his vision, she moved so that she was standing off to his right side. Gently, she tapped his shoulder and offered him a greeting. "Hello, Sir Didymus. It's so good to see you again. I thank you, Sir knight."

He didn't even turn around. If he felt her tap, he ignored it; his head remained straight as he watched the goblin attempt to pull himself out of the Bog of Stench. The goblin, when he saw that the feisty knight was watching him, gave up and sat back down in the dirty water.

Sarah didn't understand what was going on. Slowly she took her hand back, shocked at his refusal to pay any attention to her. Then, she tried one more time, a pitiful whisper that said just how confused she was, and how much it hurt that he was ignoring her.

"Sir Didymus?"

He turned around and, this time, she had no doubt that he could see her; his good eye was now looking straight at her. But he didn't make any notice of recognition at all; as far as he was concerned, the only two worthwhile creatures that remained were he and Ambrosius. And, as such, there was no need to stay outside. There was a pot of tea on, after all, and a good knight never let good tea go to waste.

So, without even a glance in Sarah's direction, Sir Didymus, followed by his hapless steed, went back to his hut.

--

Jareth was absolutely livid. It took every ounce of cunning and restraint that the Fae possessed to keep his façade intact, to keep his anger in check.

The grip on the crystal in his hand was so tight that, if he had been thinking rationally, he might have been surprised that the orb did not shatter. It remained whole, the image it held mocking him.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. There, in the center of the crystal, stood Sarah. She was not alone—the Army squad he had sent to waylay her at the Bog of Eternal Stench was there, too. They were proving as inept as he predicted; of the thirty or so goblins that surrounded the girl, approximately ten of them were even close enough to present any threat.

As soon as that one foolish goblin had been found out by Sarah, he was not surprised to see that they forgot their goal and just charged. While most of the Goblin Army was an insult to organized forces everywhere, Jareth watched earnestly to make sure that they only frightened the girl into losing her place—or, better yet, retreating. It would do no good, he knew, if they actually managed to harm her with one of their weapons.

There was more to his plan than just frightening the girl. While that was, of course, his primary aim, the Goblin King had to admit that there was a part of him, minute as it was, that wanted her to call out to him. Though he doubted Sarah would ever lower herself enough to ask for him for help, he entertained the idea that, when confronted with his Goblin Army and no easy way out, she might forsake her pride and speak his name.

If she just gave in to him, just told him that she needed him, then this ruse would have been worth every effort, every spent piece of magick. In the end, Sarah would come to him of her own free will—he was absolutely sure of that—but, with almost eight hours of her allotted ten gone, it would be all the more satisfying if she stopped the pretense that she was actually running _from _him…

But Jareth was in for a surprise and, if there was one thing he hated more than being denied something that he wanted, it was being surprised. Sarah, he had seen from within the crystal's scrying depths, was in desperate need of aid. While he was more than prepared to intercede should she need him to, it was not his name that she called out.

As if appearing out of nowhere, the small fox-dog goblin called Didymus was suddenly introduced into the scene. With his lance waving wildly, and his cowardly sheepdog following at his heels, the tiny knight burst into the middle of the fight.

Jareth watched, unable to tear his gaze away, as the goblin squad took one sight of Didymus before turning and fleeing—and even then Didymus did not stop the fight; at least one luckless soldier was launched into the murky waters of the Bog before he was finished with them. Though they easily outnumbered him, the dumb goblins did not understand that thirty-to-one odds were laughable. The legend of Sir Didymus and the lengths he would go to defend the Bog of Eternal Stench were known to all the creatures of the Underground.

Even he had a small amount of begrudging respect for the knight. But all that was shunted aside as he realized just what Sir Didymus's arrival had the power to do.

From the expression on her face, and the way that Didymus reacted as if the girl was not standing before him, Jareth knew that the magick had held; the little knight had no idea that the mortal girl was even there. She could see him but, to Didymus, she was nothing more than a ghost of a memory.

That was the reason that, before Sarah was brought to the Underground for this run, Jareth had ordered her former companions to be hidden away from her. The idiot dwarf and the lumbering beast, he had been assured, had been taken care of; Didymus, he though, was locked in a hut. It had never occurred to him that the goblins would be stupid enough to lock the knight in his _own _hut.

He knew that, with the exception of the goblins, the elves at the heart of the maze and, of course, himself, none of the denizens of the labyrinth would be able to see Sarah. This second run had been designed entirely to lull her into a false sense of security while, at the same time, playing on the paranoia that an empty labyrinth could create. It would do no good if she encountered any of the labyrinth's inhabitants and asked for their help; there was no help to receive, courtesy of the spell, and it had been so much easier just to center all of the magick on the girl.

And, even though three mortal years had passed since Sarah was last Underground, he had perceived from watching her that she still had a soft spot for the friends she had made. Though she had tried to convince herself that none of it had really happened, she remembered that old, gnarled dwarf more fondly than she had ever thought of the Goblin King.

That was why he couldn't chance her running across the dwarf again. If she asked them for their aid, if she attempted to enlist them in her second quest, it would hurt her too much to if they only ignored her. He didn't want to hurt Sarah, so he had entrusted one of the goblins to take care of her old friends for her.

But now, in a situation that was currently beyond his control, Sarah had stumbled upon Didymus. And, as Jareth had known would happen, the knight paid no attention to her voice. Then, as Didymus finished battling the Goblin Army and went back to his hut—where, Jareth noticed, he climbed back into it through a small, open window on the side—Jareth caught a glimpse of the expression that Sarah wore. She looked absolutely crushed and, for a moment, the Goblin King felt a pang of remorse.

Jareth was unused to the fleeting guilt-filled sensation and he quickly pushed it aside. Instead, he focused on a feeling that he was more acquainted with: annoyance.

He was annoyed at the Goblin Army for failing to do anything but make an utter spectacle of themselves. When and if Sarah made it to the gates of the Goblin City, he doubted she would even pause for the Army after the pathetic way they tried to ambush her.

He was annoyed at the incompetence of the goblins he had entrusted with Didymus's capture. If they had done what he had commanded and ensured that the knight was not available to the girl, then he wouldn't have to worry about Sarah figuring out what was really going on. She was a smart girl and, with the labyrinth trying to tell her the truth, he was sure she would understand the trick before long.

And he was annoyed at himself. If he had taken care of the three traitors that had so willingly accompanied Sarah, as he had wanted to do shortly after Sarah's first run, he would not have this problem now. But he didn't and he often wondered why. In the end, he had decided that as long as Sarah had a tie to the Underground—even if it was through those creatures instead of himself—then he had a link to the girl, too.

_Perhaps_, he thought sardonically, _there's a touch of sentimentality to me as well._

With that revelation, he turned his gaze back on the glass in his hand. Sarah was by herself again but she did not look as upset as she had when Didymus first returned to his hut. Her jaw was set and her lips had thinned. He couldn't help but notice that her hands were balled into fists at her side.

She looked fiercely beautiful when she was angry.

His own fury seemed to cool slightly as Sarah's began to incense. There was nothing that could be done now, he knew, and, in the future, he would know better than to leave something so important to the goblins.

Besides, there was still two hours left. There was still much left to do. If he always remained angry when the goblins did something wrong, he'd be eternally mad; it was better to remember his fury until after Sarah became his forever. _Then _he could get his revenge for this little blip in his great plan.

Sighing in reluctant acceptance, Jareth tossed the crystal into the air and let it vanish. Sarah had not been stalled for as long as he liked and, in her angered state, he knew she would adopt an even quicker pace than before. If he did not hurry, he wouldn't have the next stage of the labyrinth's challenge prepared for her.

And that wouldn't do at all.

--

Sarah watched as the small, furry knight led Ambrosius away from the scene of the minor battle. Apart from the settling dust, and an occasional gurgle from the poor goblin that had been tossed into the Bog, there was no sign that the Goblin Army had been there at all. Because most of the Army had ran at the sight of Didymus—_maybe, _Sarah wondered_, they remembered how he had fought them before_—no blood had been shed.

The Army, as one, had turned and ran to the safe haven of the Goblin City as soon as Didymus had entered into the fray; no doubt that would not be the last she would see of them.

That was the last thing on her mind, though. As she stood there, frozen along the Bog of Eternal Stench's edge, Sarah could not understand why Sir Didymus had acted as if he could not even hear her. She had stepped before him; he didn't see her, either.

The relief she had felt at spying her old friend had quickly turned to upset and sadness when he did not recognize her or, for that matter, acknowledge her presence at all. It was almost as if she did not exist to him.

Was it her fault? After all these years, all that time insisting that her trip through the labyrinth had been nothing but an imagined _incident_, was her insistence becoming true? There was no sign of Hoggle, and she had made her way through the Forbidden Forest without the shadow of Ludo following her. And now Sir Didymus… she saw him but he didn't see her.

Then a thought came to her, one that lit a spark and helped her sadness quickly turn to rage. Maybe it wasn't her fault—after all, it wasn't her that had enticed the Goblin Army to ambush her in the Bog of Eternal Stench, was it? There was only one… only the Goblin King would do that.

_That's got to be it_, she thought to herself, her hands clenched and her mind racing, _this has got to be his doing. He doesn't want me to win so he takes away my friends. They helped me before and I won, so now he arranged it so that they can't help me again. It's not—not—_

She didn't finish that thought. Even now, all those hours later, she couldn't be sure that he wasn't there, lurking in her head. And the last thing she wanted to was to even _think _the word 'fair'.

Just then, the clock began to sound; the echoing chimes rang in her ears, breaking up every thought but one: there were only two hours remaining left in her run.

Sarah, taking great care not to catch a glimpse of Didymus's hut out of the corner of her eye, lifted her head up defiantly. The castle she had been stalking was growing ever closer; it wouldn't take that much longer for her to find her way through the tricky maze and reach the castle's gate. She let her hurt and her ire transform into a sort of cocky confidence—she would win, and she would be glad to be rid of this place.

_Two hours? _She shook her head as she started towards the bridge that would carry her away from the Bog of Eternal Stench. _Two hours, Jareth, ha! Piece of cake._

* * *

Author's Note: _I've been waiting to get to this part of the story for awhile. It finally ends one whole arc of the plot while helping me set the stage for the next. And, after that, there's only the conclusion left. So, yes, I hope you guys liked this chapter—it was definitely an interesting one for me. Not to mention, the longest, too ;)_


	27. Part Twenty Seven: A familiar place

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

* * *

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

She had said that he had no power over her but it did not last.  
Three years later, Sarah finds herself up against Jareth for the second time.  
But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom.

* * *

Part Twenty Seven: A familiar place

* * *

Sarah hadn't realized just how powerful the Bog of Eternal Stench was. She had barely left the Bog behind her when the fresh air in front of her pushed some of the stink out of her nose; it was refreshing and reviving. The lingering odor clung to her clothes, even though she had been extremely careful when she crossed the rocks, and she couldn't wait until she had made it far enough that the Bog's stench could be nothing but a memory. Just then, leaving the Bog behind her was more a motive for her brisk walk than her desire to make it to Jareth's castle as soon as she possibly could.

Not that she wasn't just as determined to make it to the center of the labyrinth a second time. She was, and she kept her eyes steeled onto the looming structure in the distance.

With every step she took that brought her closer to Jareth's castle, the more formidable it became. It was great and daunting, demanding her attention as it represented everything she was fighting against. As she strode forward, her footsteps heavy and her hands still balled into fists at her side, Sarah could imagine her freedom held captive in the fortress. She had no trouble believing that the Goblin King could keep her emotion under lock and key in his domain—in fact, she was certain of it.

Jareth's castle had been the focal point during her journey. As it was her goal to end up within the wall of the Goblin City, Sarah couldn't really stay too far from her path as long as she kept her eyes on the castle.

Eight hours ago, when she had first returned to the Underground to race the labyrinth, the castle had been nothing but a dark pinprick in the distance. Entering the maze had been her first priority, and she'd barely spared a thought towards Jareth's castle since. It was an intended landmark, a destination—a place she wasn't too sure she wanted to reach, but would try her best to do so out of a mixture of pride and spite.

Now, though, as her anger started to fade and the castle seemed closer and closer, she began to wonder just what she would find there. There was no doubt in her mind that she would make it to the castle; there were still two hours remaining and she could see that it—barring any unforeseen circumstances, of course—would not take so long to arrive. Besides, the last time she had journeyed to the castle, she arrived with five minutes to spare and she had still beaten the ornate, misnumbered clock. No doubt she could do so again.

The castle had contained Toby the last time and the fear that she would return Aboveground without her brother. But what about this time? She wasn't running to save anyone—well, except for herself.

Suddenly, a question popped up in the back of her mind, so sneaky and unexpected that it sprang upon her before her subconscious had the chance to squash it: Is it enough?

Is it enough, Sarah asked herself, is it enough to face of against the labyrinth, against Jareth, against the Underground… just because of a few nightmares and a childhood grudge?

"Yes," she said heatedly, so surprised at the unsaid question that she blurted out the answer.

Her subconscious wasn't buying it.

Shaking her head in an attempt to clear it, she stormed forward. She kept the castle always in sight but, apart from it, she paid no further attention to her surroundings. It looked no different, after all, and she had no real idea as to where she was going so it didn't really matter where she went. Just as long as her destination—Jareth's castle—was reached by the time the clock struck ten, it didn't matter to Sarah which path she took.

It did, however, matter to the labyrinth. The great maze had other plans for the mortal girl, plans that ran alongside Jareth's schemes though they never entwined. It would take her to the castle eventually, of course, but not immediately.

Slowly, magickally, and entirely unseen by the self-imposed oblivious Sarah, the labyrinth began to change.

After leaving the Bog of Eternal Stench behind her, the rocky dirt-filled path and splashes of spilt Bog water had faded into a smoother cobblestone road. The same rocky walls that had made up a majority of the maze had reappeared and, in the back of her mind, Sarah wondered if, perhaps, she'd made a wrong turn somewhere. The frightening idea that she might be heading back rather than forward stalled her for just a moment before she remembered that she'd crossed the Bog—just as she did the time before—and gone forward only. Another glance at the large, intimidating castle verified that her path was true; it was getting even closer.

Sarah didn't remember a second series of walls from her first journey through the labyrinth but she was not surprised. The Underground, she was aware, was vast and ever-changing. As it was, it was interesting enough that she'd chanced upon so many landmarks from her first run—it was about time that her casual way of deciding upon a path led her a new way.

In fact, she found she preferred this path. The last time she'd been Underground, following the escapades at the Bog of Eternal Stench—where she'd made an ally out of Sir Didymus, she recalled with a pang; how had he forgotten her so easily?—the trail out of the Bog led to a wooded area quite similar to the Forbidden Forest. Fog and haze had settled over moss and trees, she remembered. It was there that Hoggle had offered her the enchanted peach; it was in that location that she'd fallen asleep and… and—

She shook her head stubbornly, pushing that unwanted thought—pushing the memories—to the side.. It had been far too long since Jareth had appeared to her in the maze and she had no delusions that the Goblin King was leaving her to her own devices. The last thing she wanted to do was to invite him in by dwelling on his powers.

Whether she meant the powers his crystals awarded him or the power he held over her—she harbored no delusions that he was powerless during this, her second run—Sarah was not entirely sure. To be safe, it was better not to remember at all.

It wasn't difficult to keep her mind blank. Her focus was solely on the castle before her—or, sometimes when she did make a wrong turn—or on her side; she could almost feel it drawing her nearer, waiting for her to enter in through the gates. It seemed to shimmer in the open light, beckoning onward. There was a pull, that much was certain, and Sarah followed it most stubbornly.

Seconds ticked and minutes passed by but there was no sound of the chiming bell. She refused to look at her watch, childishly believing that she had more time than she probably did. Not that it mattered—her confidence told her that all of her trials and the energy that had been expended was warranted, that she would be inside that castle before long, facing off against her adversary.

Sarah was tired and, almost unaware of it, she yawned. Covering her mouth with her hand, she saw that it was dust-covered and dirty. She wasn't surprised, either. After eight hours of trawling through an outdoors labyrinth, she could imagine what the rest of her looked like. Thinking back to one of Jareth's earlier traps, she almost wished that her old vanity would find its way in her path again. The moment when she defeated the Goblin King for the second time would be quite anticlimactic if she had a rather large dirt smudge across her forehead.

For the first time in she didn't know how long, Sarah chuckled, imagining the scene. Jareth, in all his Goblin King finery, being confronted by a tired, journey-worn mortal girl…and losing. If she was able to pull that off, it would almost be worth everything she'd been through during her ten-hour stint Underground.

The chuckle turned into a laugh that actually turned into a guffaw. She knew that the simple scene wasn't as funny as all that—in fact, she was sure it would be just as intimidating as it was for her the last time around—but it felt good to laugh. She'd been covering up her nerves and her fear with a façade of unconcern for so long that it was such a release to revel in a few moments of humor.

She felt a bit of weight lift off of her shoulders as she laughed but it did not last as long as she would have liked. As her guffaws ended and she struggled to catch her breath, Sarah caught whiff of something that she hadn't noticed before. It was a faint smell and, right away, she had the sense that she should recognize it. That strange feeling slid her smile right off her face as she straightened up and, almost slightly panicky, took another sniff.

It was not an altogether bad smell but, in comparison to the Bog of Eternal Stench that she'd so recently experienced, nothing could be as bad as the Bog water. It was almost sweet, but in a sickly way, with a hint of age. She immediately thought of rotting fruit, or decaying mulch. Strange, but no stranger than the fact that she had no idea where it was coming from. The closest she could come to discovering the source was that it grew insignificantly stronger when she took one tentative step forward.

Instead of searching out the familiar landmark of Jareth's castle at the center of the labyrinth, Sarah looked around her before finally looking straight ahead. She'd been so preoccupied, moving onward while only look for the castle, that she didn't notice exactly where she was heading; as such, she had no idea what could contain such an odd odor.

There was a hill in front of her, rather large though the incline wasn't as steep as it could be. Sarah was glad; she was really beginning to feel the burn in her legs and she wasn't too sure that she would be able to climb such a hill without stopping to massage out any cramps.

But, Sarah found herself wondering, momentarily taking her attention off the smell, where does this hill lead? She did not remember anything being so high off ground level from her last run and her stomach tightened. Though she couldn't explain it, the sight was unwelcome and she almost wanted to take another path. But then she offered one quick glance towards the castle and realized that take this hill was the straightest—and, therefore, quickest—way to the center of the labyrinth.

She sniffed again and decided that it was the sickly sweet odor that made her so uneasy. She didn't know what could be producing such a stink but it was nowhere near as bad as the putrid, foul scent that the Bog of Eternal Stench produced and she'd handled that as best as she could. No doubt she'd show the Goblin King her true strengths by proving that she could handle anything he wanted to throw her way; no one said she had to breathe through her nose, anyway.

Of course, as Sarah should've known well enough by then, things weren't always what they seemed, especially in the Underground. It's always easier to be brave when facing the unknown—would that bravado last when she found that she knew exactly what she was facing?

Trying not to dwell on that fact—and only wondering even more what was on the other side of the foreboding hill—Sarah pushed herself forward. Now that she'd let herself realize just how tired she was, she had the sudden desire to sit down and take a break… but she wouldn't. She couldn't. The last time she'd rested, she'd fall asleep and entered a fantastical, if garish, masquerade ball thrown by—and for—the Goblin King himself.

Of course, the eerily realistic dream had been the result of Hoggle's betrayal, courtesy of a sleeping draught, but she wasn't taking any chances. She'd come too far, after all.

However, that composure and admitted cockiness faltered immediately once she'd reached the top of the hill and could look past it. The strange smell was even stronger at the peak and she knew right away why it had filled her senses with thoughts of rotting and decay. Her stomach plummeted, dropping straight down to her tennis shoes, when she realized where her wary feet and her ill-thought self-assuredness had taken her.

Sarah could see, from her place on the top of that hill, that the area stretched out before her was nothing but an old, forgotten junkyard. The same junkyard, in fact, that she'd found herself when she had broken through Jareth's masquerade ball.

She grimaced and stopped breathing through her nose at once. The smell was even worse now that she knew its source and she wished she could forget it, forget what lingering memories it held for her.

Groaning, she couldn't help herself. She had to say something, whether Jareth heard her or not.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

* * *

Author's Note: _I'm so sorry about the delay. I actually planned out the next arc of this story (it won't last more than 2-3 chapters) and then couldn't decide how to write it. I liked the idea but, at first, the execution seemed somewhat lacking. After __ I finally settled on starting it from scratch and coming up with a different path for Sarah—I hope you guys like it! And, once again, I do want to thank everyone for their amazing reviews! I really appreciate them and they truly do help. Thank you!_


	28. Part Twenty Eight: A time to forget

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

* * *

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

She had said that he had no power over her but it did not last.  
Three years later, Sarah finds herself up against Jareth for the second time.  
But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom.

* * *

Part Twenty Eight: A time to forget

* * *

It was no wonder that Sarah did not remember the path to this part of the labyrinth. The last time she found herself in the great junkyard she had not arrived in the conventional way. Still, just because she hadn't intended to stumble upon the old junkyard, there was no denying that, as she stood on the summit of that ominous hill, the junkyard was what she was facing.

She'd been here once before but she hadn't had the luxury of this angle. It was larger than she remembered, quite imposing and very threatening. Acres and acres of rubbish, piled high and spread out to fill this part of the great maze, was all that comprised her immediate vicinity. From this position, apart from the junkyard but close enough that her status could change in a few minutes and a quick step, Sarah found herself staring in both amazement and trepidation.

The smell was causing her sinking stomach to churn but it was the memories, not the sickly sweet odor, that kept her tired feet from moving down towards the junkyard. It probably hadn't been the best idea to eat the peach before; just thinking about the fruit, and whose lips had once been pressed up against it, only added to her upset.

She ate a peach then, too.

Just like this time, the journey had made her tired and hungry. Unaware of Hoggle's imminent betrayal, she'd jumped at the chance to nibble on the fuzzy fruit the dwarf had offered her. The juice was particularly sweet and it was that more than anything that made her realize that something was terribly wrong.

The peach, so cleverly yet so cruelly enchanted by the Goblin King, whisked her away into a dream_. _With the macabre masks and garish costumes, including her own sequined ball gown, there was no denying that it was a fantasy—even if it was one that the then-childish and selfish Sarah did not want to end. She had been quite naïve.

After a desperate search, she danced with Jareth, seeing him and only him as he spun her around the dance floor. They were the center of attention and it had excited Sarah to watch him as he watched her.

Despite their many, many differences—including the most pressing fact that they were adversaries in a high-stakes game—it seemed _right _that she was in his arms; she was part of him, molded perfectly in his haughty embrace as he serenaded her with beautiful words and empty promises:

_There's such a sad love  
Deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel  
Open and closed within your eyes  
I'll place the sky within your eyes…_

But then the tone of the song seemed to change and slowly, groggily, she started to wake up from her dream. She didn't want to stay with him, and she didn't need his promises. All she wanted was her brother back.

_As the pain sweeps through,  
__Makes no sense for you  
Every thrill has gone  
Wasn't too much fun at all…_

The chiming of that all too familiar bell could be heard and Sarah knew it was time to get away. Like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight, the magick was suddenly gone. She heard jeering and, for the first time since the dance began, she saw the spectators for what they truly were: cruel and heartless, cheering on the tricking of a simple mortal girl.

Their laughter in her ears and only escape from this _nightmare _on her mind, Sarah had run. Nobody stopped her, probably assuming there was no way she could find a path out of the magickal masquerade. But she did; a simple chair and the reflective mirror on the inside of one of Jareth's bespelled crystals did the trick.

After breaking through Jareth's spell by crashing through the mirror, Sarah remembered with another twist of her stomach, the dream hadn't ended. Not really, not like she thought it had. She found herself home, seemingly safe in the sanctuary of her bedroom, prepared to believe that whole strange dance, whose music still echoed in her head, had been a dream.

Until she attempted to leave her bedroom and discovered that, in place of the upstairs hallway, she was standing in the dreadful junkyard. But she wasn't alone; she found herself talking to a gnarled, wrinkled old junk lady who kept shoving Sarah's old toys in her face in a bid to get Sarah to forget that her mission was saving Toby.

At that moment, Sarah had to give a little shake of her head. Even now, three years later, she still felt guilty that she'd even wished her brother away, no matter how half-kidding she'd been; it made her feel even worse to know that, even for a little while—even under a spell—she'd forgotten all about Toby.

She would be so glad when she didn't have to think on _any _of the old memories.

Only more determined now that she'd given in and let herself remember all about the last time, Sarah glared down at the imposing junkyard.

Walking out of the Forbidden Forest, going past the Bog of Eternal Stench and facing off against a wayward goblin squadron was, in her opinion, definitely a much better way to get to the junkyard. Sure, it took longer to get there but at least she didn't have an immortal monarch playing fantasy with her head, nor did she have to worry about any sideswiping betrayals.

That didn't mean that she was glad to be there, though. She wasn't, and, if it took another hour off of her time, Sarah felt that it would be worth it not to have to cross the junkyard to get to Jareth's castle. She did not want to step foot into those heaps ever again.

But then, just as she made her decision and started to turn her back on the sight before her, a gleaming smile flashed before her eyes. She paused immediately. In her imagination, she could see the knowing grin, the tell-tale smirk that would cross the Goblin King's face when he found that, rather than face the memory of that night—of that _dance_—Sarah had run away. Like a defeated pup, she'd slunk away with her tail hanging between her legs.

Her hands balled into fists at her side; just the idea that Jareth would find some sort of pleasure at her failures made her hot with anger. She couldn't blame him precisely, not when she was the one who (conscious or not) chose which path to take, but that didn't mean that she didn't figure, in some way, that Jareth had a hand in leading her towards this particular point. At the very least, she wouldn't put it past him.

It seemed like just the thing that the cruel, selfish Goblin King would do. She'd come so close to making it to the castle at the center of the labyrinth; he must've known what being confronted with the old junkyard—and, in turn, the reasons behind her last arrival in the dump—would do to her resolve.

That, more than anything, was what helped Sarah make up her mind. It didn't matter what this shortcut did to her as long as it led, as she assumed it would, straight to Jareth's castle. When she finally defeated him in this, his magickal realm, _for the second time_, she'd never have to deal with such memories again. Her terms in this run were quite clear: _when _she won, forgetfulness was her prize.

Sarah Williams was, no matter how tired and no matter how distressed, stubborn to a fault. With a determined frown and an overly beating heart, she turned around and started to walk purposefully in a downward slope.

--

That magick, as if he'd had any doubts, worked sublimely. Immediately after vanishing from his throne room, Jareth was standing in the center of the junkyard on the outskirts of the labyrinth. He could not fathom how Sarah would have beat him to the juncture but he had—for the moment, at least; too much was as stake—given up on underestimating her abilities. It seemed that, every time he did, the human girl just surprised him again.

It was a blow to both his pride and his ego that, not only was she on the path to best him again, but also that he did not know Sarah as well as he thought he did.

Not that he was nervous, though. As he reminded himself smugly, there was no possible way that Sarah could win; in essence, she had already lost—she just didn't know it yet. This time, the chase through the labyrinth was not only about the game—it was about the prize.

But still, Jareth found, it would be far better if he stuck to his plan. With the exception of a few minor glitches—which were to be expected in the presence of goblins—the spell had not veered him wrong. Sarah was there, searching for him, running towards him. It did not matter to the Goblin King that she did so in order to escape him forever; it only mattered that her intent _was _to see him again.

And then… then he would win. No matter what.

It was such a pity that Sarah had no chance, but Jareth did not, nor never had played fair. If she expected anything otherwise, than she knew him even less than he knew her.

_Ah, but we shall have all eternity to learn of one another_, Jareth reminded himself as his thin lips pulled back in a satisfied grin. And that was that.

In order not to underestimate her, he had taken the precaution of adopting another disguise, one that was quiet different than the alluring Fae form he naturally assumed. This new identity was one he knew Sarah would recognize, such as when he transformed into a dwarf reminiscent of that idiot, Hoggle.

The façade was no meaner, nor any more desperate, than any of his earlier tricks. Nonetheless, he felt stooped under the weight of the new pretense. As adamant as he was to claim her as his, he wondered where exactly he would draw the line. Just how far was he prepared to go?

"As far as I must," Jareth spoke aloud with a touch of disdain, "and I'll thank you, my Lord, to keep your thoughts to yourself."

His load felt lighter at once, his mind untroubled, as he felt Lord Corrigan's influence slink from his mind. He would have to remember to speak to his father about using loaned magick to plant seeds of doubt and remorse into his head during a spell.

Sighing, Jareth shook his head clear. Honestly, his father could be such a hypocrite.

He waited half a minute—almost all the time he could spare before Sarah's appearance—to see if his father would continue to interfere. When he was certain that he alone was in control of his thoughts he reached one dark, wrinkled hand out before him. Despite the nature of his disguise, he quickly conjured on of his crystals; he did not have goblin magick, but his own.

A delicate-enough looking hand, the palms callused by decades of working the junkyard, squeezed the crystal and, when the crystal shattered, all that remained was a music box doll; the tiny face of the delicate dancer was nearly as beautiful as his Sarah herself.

The trinket was slightly weathered and the tiny dancer was regrettably missing an arm from when it had last been dropped but, after all this time, he was finally returning the box to the place he had removed it from that last time he and Sarah met.

The Goblin King, incognito, knew just the spot to put it. Moving faster than his borrowed body should allow, he hobbled to one particular corner at the center of the junkyard. After setting it down, using a damp and raggedy old stuffed toy as a perch, he leaned over it and made sure that it was properly wound. The music, soft and soothing and _familiar_, filtered slowly into the muggy air.

And then, once his task was complete, the Goblin King hobbled back, hiding himself away. Chuckling under his breath as he did so, he was quite content to wait for her arrival.

--

She still hadn't dared a glance at her watch but, seeing as how the clock hadn't chimed again, Sarah decided that there was more than enough time remaining. At least, that's what she told herself repeatedly. Otherwise there was no other rational reasoning behind the abnormally slow pace she'd adopted as she descended from the top of the hill.

With steps as light as a cat, she made her way down. Careful not to slip and fall headfirst into the muck and debris that made up the junkyard, Sarah took deliberate steps on the hill; once she'd reached the base—admittedly too soon for her liking—she continued with her cautious footing. She could only imagine what she'd step right into if she wasn't careful now.

The smell was even stronger at the bottom, that mixture of decay and despair. It tickled her nose and burned her throat. In an attempt to ward it off, Sarah began to breathe shallowly though her mouth. It was the best she could do.

Her hands were still balled into fists and vaguely she wondered if her fingers would stay in such a position; they'd been fixed that way enough times during the last eight or nine hours that she wouldn't be surprised if they did. They were no longer at her side, though. Instead, she had them held out in order to keep her balance. It was all too easy to trip amongst the piles.

It took all her strength not to look down as her feet either went _squish _or, when she stumbled on something hard yet fragile, _crunch_. After crossing halfway through the yard, her morbid sense of curiosity got to her and she just had to look down.

Much of the mess was mud, brown and thick, with various perishable odds and ends in all sorts of states of decomposition. But, as she narrowed her eyes and took a better look, she could make out other things, too. Bits of fabric dotted the muck, once-bright colors that had faded, and old wrappers were strewn all over. An arm from a dolly here and the half-stuffed head of a teddy bear there; she even saw part of an old wagon partly submerged in a particularly large pile of refuse.

It was junk, all of it. But, every time she saw a discarded toy or a piece of a tattered costume's sleeve, she felt a pang, an almost twist of her already queasy stomach. None of it was _familiar _to her but, all the same, Sarah couldn't suppress the strange feeling that she'd known the scattered pieces. Back when that old rubber ball was inflated or that book had all its pages… back when the things that made up _her _childhood weren't junk.

It made her sad, it made her uneasy and, when something familiar did seem to filter through the still quiet, it made her freeze.

The gentle tinkling sound that used to reassure her that everything was all right. The sweet melody that reminded her of her mother. The tune she hadn't heard in three years…

Sarah would know that song anywhere.

_Greensleeves was all my joy…_

* * *

Author's Note: _It may have taken awhile, but here's the next chapter! I've been trying to get up the inspiration to work on this for awhile but it was tough, considering that I've undertaken two more fics (one _Twilight_, one _Newsies_) this summer. However, finishing _Sleepwalker_ is my first priority (alongside finishing _The Sparrow_) so that I can get back to work on my other _Labyrinth _story, _Fourteen_. I've already written a bit more on that so I should have updates on that before long; I just got to get this a bit closer to the end first ;) _


	29. Part Twenty Nine: A childhood, found

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker.

* * *

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

She had said that he had no power over her but it did not last.  
Three years later, Sarah finds herself up against Jareth for the second time.  
But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom.

* * *

Part Twenty Nine: A childhood, found

* * *

Her purpose wasn't forgotten _entirely_ but there was no way that Sarah could hear the familiar tune and not search out the source. She didn't even stop to wonder if this was more magic; she had no doubts that it was her own stubbornness and curiosity that sent her in that direction.

Caution was thrown to the wind—rather, to the stuffy, humid air that swirled over and around the junkyard—as Sarah determinedly crossed the dump. Her steps were no longer careful and more than once she stepped into something slimy and slippery. Since she never fell, it was easy to disregard it. After all, feet could be washed, socks and shoes disinfected. Who knew how long the haunting, mocking tune would tinkle?

She huffed under her breath, well aware that this was close to the fastest pace she had gone since first entering the labyrinth. Her focus was just as strong but, for once, it wasn't on the castle just out of her line of vision. _Greensleeves_ was growing ever fainter and, as she roughly wiped at her eyes with a filthy hand and pushed stray strands of hair out of her face, Sarah had the distinct impression that the rest of her journey hinged on her discovering the source of the music before it came to a close.

In the back of her mind, she could still hear the gentle murmurings of that elf she'd met in the Forbidden Forest. What if this, running off in search of an old memory, was the decision she was supposed to make?

It didn't matter, anyway. It was the decision she had made, after all. Besides, there was still plenty of time left. One quick glance out of the corner of her tired eyes told her that Jareth's castle was still _just right there_. A few minutes wouldn't make a difference in the grand scheme of things.

And, if she stumbled upon something that would have been better left to rot in the junk heaps? No worries. Sarah wouldn't remember any of it come morning. Jareth promised—as long as she won, that was.

She had no doubts that she would win. For Sarah, there was no other option.

The last note of the melody rang out loud and clear, contrary to the waning music she'd heard only seconds before. It struck her deep and, with that single note, she was able to pinpoint exactly where it came from.

Shielding her eyes with her right hand, searching intently solely because she knew her curiosity would never leave her alone if she didn't, Sarah was finally able to figure where the music was coming from. Though she couldn't believe it when she did, the tinkling tune of _Greensleeves _had been emitted from an exquisite trinket: a music box with a beautiful dancing doll positioned right on top. She remembered it immediately and only wished she didn't.

_What the… is that really? It couldn't be… could it?_

Slowly, she picked up the music doll box and, her eyes wide and staring, she looked closely at the object. It was almost an exact double of the box she kept in her room with one exception: her doll had both arms and was in a considerably better state than this one. Shaking her head in disbelief, Sarah hurriedly placed the box back down. She didn't like the way the little face on the dancer stared accusingly at her.

Her stomach tightened. The fact that this trinket was a double of the one her mother had given her when she was a child was not what had led her to recognize it; she recognized it because she had seen this particular box before in this particular place. And it seemed fitting that that would be where she found it again.

Unless she was wrong, and she highly doubted that, this was the doll that the old junk lady gave her the last time she was Underground.

She was still squatting down low to the ground, her hands hanging hesitantly over the music doll box. It was tilted to the side and, as Sarah squinted incredulously at the base of the box—taking great care to avoid the blank face of that familiar doll—she suddenly recognized the dirty brown lump it was sitting on.

"Lancelot!" she cried, her voice hoarse and strangled despite sounding slightly excited and a little hysterical. Carefully moving the doll over, Sarah reached for the old teddy bear with trembling hands. It had been bad enough that she found the old doll; finding Lancelot was just too much.

Again, she more than knew that the original was kept at home. After giving Lancelot to Toby—she tried not to remember when but failed; it was the first act of true kindness she'd shown towards her brother after returning Aboveground—the toy quickly become one of his favorites. Even now, Toby was rarely parted from the raggedy old bear.

However, that fact was momentarily lost on her. Confronted first with the music box, then with Lancelot, her eyes quickly rummaged through the heaps surrounding her. Not surprisingly, much of what she saw she knew.

There was a stack of clothing, old yet still sturdy, peeking out from under a particular pile of junk. And then, beside it, a bent crown. "My costumes," she said, one finger reaching out possessively to play at the frayed edging of a yellowed with age sleeve.

"And my books," she added, sounding extremely tired all of a sudden. _Where the Wild Things Are_ was right on the top of another stack, half the cover missing, but Sarah didn't have it in her to dig any deeper. She didn't know what she would do if she happened to stumble upon a certain red-covered booklet.

She stopped looking then. Beginning to understand just what her findings seemed to mean, she didn't want to look for anything else.

This wasn't a place to store and keep the garbage of goblins. No, it was a much more sinister place, full of the broken dreams and fragments of lost childhoods. But, whether it belonged to the children who'd been wished away or those foolish enough to attempt to defeat the Goblin King, Sarah wasn't sure.

But, as she held the moldy, damp Lancelot snuggly to her chest, ignoring the dirty marks it left behind, she knew exactly what became of her past.

_He _took it from her.

And here it was, _her _childhood, scattered around her. Forgotten. Lost. Damaged.

She'd been a stupid girl who made a stupid wish and, though she took on the Goblin King and _won_, she'd been paying for her foolishness ever since. She'd discarded her own childhood, boxed it up and hidden it away. Her old books, her toys, the costumes she'd adored… all of it, locked out of sight because, one day, she'd decided it was time to grow up.

Maybe it had been her decision, maybe not, but Sarah just couldn't place the blame on herself. That fell on him, the Goblin King. He'd been the one to do this to her. With cruel tricks, a mocking smile and the promise of everything and nothing, he'd been the one to take a naïve child and thrust a burgeoning maturity on her.

It was easy to accuse him of enticing her to grow up. As an adult, Sarah didn't think she would ever have to face him again; like her toys and her dolls, she had tucked aside the truth of the Underground, the goblins and their king. She told him that he had no power over her… but it obviously wasn't enough.

She told him that he had no power over her and she was wrong.

And there she was, three years older but not any smarter. It had been quite simple to fool herself into think she'd grown wiser as she made her escape to womanhood, but not now, now that she was thrust back into a game of make believe that had become all too real. Again.

But was it real? It _seemed _real—but wasn't that part of the labyrinth's magic? It can all _seem _real but, in the labyrinth, nothing was what it seemed.

She knew that all too well.

To Sarah, it _seemed_ like she was the heroine, and Jareth the villain. It _seemed _like she was almost there, that she was going to win. It _seemed _like that was what she wanted…

But was it? Was that what she wanted?

During her first run, all Sarah wanted to do was to save Toby. Everything she went through, everything she experienced, it was all worth it because, in the end, she got her brother back.

But what about this time?

This time, when all she would get out of this was the promise of a clean slate and no more fantasy. The memories would be gone, as would the Underground. She'd never even know this place—so charming yet so frightening—existed. Was that worth it?

A scornful smile tugged at her lips as she set the old, moldy teddy bear back atop the pile. Carefully, she maneuvered the stuffed toy so that it sat beside the still music doll box. It flopped over immediately, leaning against the box for support.

Sarah sighed then, exhaling deeply as she sagged, falling to her knees.

She just didn't know…

For one second there, she felt a kinship with this twin of her old toy. If it were possible, she would find someone strong and slump up against them. She was tired—she'd been tired for so long now—and she didn't even know how she was standing now. Her legs were week, her feet achy and her head was so heavy. Full of thoughts, concerns, emotions and memories… there was room for nothing else.

Using the back of her hand—since, after handling the old toys, it was the least dirty part—Sarah wiped her forehead. She longed to rub her eyes, she was that exhausted, but she didn't. She didn't have the strength for it.

Instead, she slowly got back on her feet, bending over slightly so that she could use her palms to wipe at the dirty stains on the knees of her blue jeans. Seeing as how her palms were already so dirty, they did nothing but to smear the wet marks but she barely noticed. At that moment, all Sarah knew she wanted was to be out of the junkyard for good.

It was just too creepy being surrounded by all those 'might have been's and 'if only's. If she never set foot in such a distressing place again, that would be too soon.

She wiped her hands against her jeans again before rubbing them together. Jutting her chin out in what she hoped was a determined manner, and only succeeding in looking as defeated as she suddenly felt, Sarah spied the looming castle in the distance and adjusted her position so that she was heading straight towards it. She'd taken up quite a bit of time, looking for the source of the music, but the castle was not as far off as it could have been. Thank goodness.

Until, of course, the loud, blaring chime of an unwanted reminder erupted over the junkyard. It was much noisier than it had been before and the shocking sound jolted her back into the present. Whether it was worth it or not, Sarah had a run to complete and only one more hour in which to do it.

Whether it was worth it or not, she'd wagered her freedom against her memories. Even if she wasn't sure that her memories were worth confronted her past again, there was no way she was giving up her freedom. Confused or not, Sarah was just as determined to win.

Her gait a combination of a skip and a run, she began to hurry through the junkyard. Her eyes locked on the structure in the distance, she didn't watch where she was going until—

"Hey, watch where you're going there!"

—she rammed right into someone who barely came up to her hip.

Neither fell though Sarah was pretty sure she would have a nasty bruise on her thigh tomorrow. A bit flustered and her manner entirely apologetic, she stopped running immediately and quickly glanced down at the… whatever she'd bumped into.

It was, at first glance, a pile of rags that were speaking to her. But, courtesy of past experience—all of which was, admittedly, hazy—she knew exactly what she would find beneath the rags. And, when the pile shifted and a gnarled, weathered goblin face appeared from within the fold, Sarah recognized the junk lady.

There was something different about this one. For some reason, Sarah thought the eyes looked odd and the mouth too happy to be the junk lady that she'd met during her last run. Either way, she _had _run straight into her because her attention had been elsewhere. At the very least, she owed her an apology.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to sound as kind as possible. After all, it wasn't the junk woman's fault that she was so tired and in such a hurry.

"You should be, girlie. It's not right, running down old ladies like that, you know. You should watch where you're going."

"I—I know." It was harder than she thought to remain kind. There was just _something _about this woman that seemed to irk her. "My mistake."

This junk lady laughed then and any malice she held for Sarah's accident vanished. She didn't look as old or wrinkled when she laughed. Her voice, nowhere near as hoarse as the other junk lady, was lighter too. Musical, even. "Never you mind, dearie. Mistakes, everyone makes them. No, but what matters is that you had a reason to run. Did you?"

"Yes, actually, I do," Sarah answered, grateful for the question. It gave her the perfect opportunity to take her leave without appearing rude. "In fact, I was in a hurry so—"

"Ah, another of them young mortals trying to get the best of the King, I see."

Momentarily taken aback by the directness of the woman's statement, Sarah stumbled. She shook her head. "Um, yeah, I guess. Anyway, I'll—"

"I don't know why everyone tries. No one ever beats King Jareth. Not really," the junk lady said, sounding thoughtful as she stared down at the ground beneath her bare feet. "Sometimes they just think they do," she added before leaning forward and plunging her tiny fist straight down. When she brought it out again, there was a shiny, somewhat dented golden ring held tight between her fists. "Oh, lookie here. You can find some real nice goodies here."

Sarah, who had remained quiet while the goblin woman spoke, shook her head again. For a moment, she was tempted to tell her that she, Sarah Williams, had beaten the Goblin King _and _his great labyrinth the last time she faced it. However, before she had, the woman's comment of 'they just think they do' impressed upon her a sudden need for silence. That bothered her far more than she could rightly say.

Instead, she politely looked at the ring that junk lady held out. She attempted to bring an interested smile to her face, the result being a puzzled quirk of her lips. "That's… that's nice."

"You like it?"

Sarah nodded, not quite sure what to say. "It's pretty," she settled on finally. She felt guilty for lying but what could she do? She didn't feel comfortable telling this stranger that the idea of marveling over some other person's lost treasures made her sick to her stomach.

The junk lady's strange eyes brightened. "Do you want it, dearie? You can have it," she said, holding the ring out to Sarah.

"Oh, no," Sarah said hurriedly, waving her hands in front of her, "I couldn't. You found it."

"That's true, and you find some lovely treasures in the junkyard." In one swift motion, the junk lady brought her hand behind her, tucking the ring into one of her myriad of storage places within the depths of her rags. "You should stay, girlie, and look through the heaps with me."

Sarah was on the defensive straight away. While the suggestion seemed innocent enough and the junk lady had no idea that this was her _second _run, that didn't matter. All she heard was one of the junk lady's attempting to keep her in the junkyard; the scenario was far too familiar to Sarah and she blanched.

"No!" she said, much louder than she intend. Swallowing, feeling her cheeks heat up as her own voice echoed back at her, Sarah tried again. "I mean, no, thank you. I have… I have to go somewhere."

"Where?"

_Where?_

For just the tiniest of seconds, Sarah couldn't remember where she was going. But, before she'd started to panic, the sight of that ominous castle flashed before her eyes and she immediately calmed. She gestured behind her. "The castle."

"The castle?" The junk lady looked interested. "A pretty thing like you, going to see the king? Or … or are you looking for something else?"

_I… I don't know…_

Sarah's stomach was still in knots and this weird conversation with this strange creature was not helping her at all. Very aware that she was wasting what precious time remained—and ten hours had seemed so long in the beginning; with less than one remaining, she wished she had more—she started to take steps away from the junk lady.

"I'm—I'm sorry. About running you over, I mean, but I have to get going. It was nice meeting you," she lied, waving her hand hastily before turning around. She added a quick goodbye before running off; she never even gave the old goblin woman the chance to say another word.

But that was alright. She had nothing left to say.

The junk lady watched Sarah run from her, her strangely mismatched eyes never removing themselves from the girl's backside until she was out of sight. Only then did she blink.

When those eyes were opened again, Jareth had resumed his proper form. He patted his gloves back in place before running a delicate hand along the edge of his feathery hair. A smirk was at home on his face as he congratulated himself on his foresight.

It had been a very good idea to set up one further obstacle to waylay Sarah. As far as he could tell, this run had had the desired effect on Sarah's emotions; it had taken a great toll on her nerves, knocking down much of the barricade she had built up against him all those years ago. There was no denying the chink in her armor, nor the confusion written in her beautiful green eyes. And he was very nearly certain that his next trick would mark the turning point he so desired.

As soon as she saw it, he would have her. He just knew it.

Chuckling devilishly to himself, he let the magick return him to the throne room. He could not wait to watch her reaction to his next move.

* * *

Author's Note: _Well, here's the next chapter. I had a bit of fun with it -- I've been waiting to get to this point in Sarah's journey for quite some time. I'm really excited I got to do that and, in addition to that, on today, too. Today is actually the two year anniversary of the first chapter of _Sleepwalker _being posted. I feel a tad guilty that it's taking this long to get this story done but, on the upside, it won't take another two years to finish it ;)_


	30. Part Thirty: A song and a sight

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker_;_ _the lyrics included in this particular chapter are to the old English ballad, _Greensleeves_._

* * *

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

She had said that he had no power over her but it did not last.  
Three years later, Sarah finds herself up against Jareth for the second time.  
But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom.

* * *

Part Thirty: A song and a sight

* * *

Sarah couldn't get the bittersweet tune of _Greensleeves_ out of her head and, to be honest, she wasn't quite sure she minded; anything was better than listening to that strange junk woman's voice echoing repeatedly through her mind. The ancient words of devotion set to a medieval song soothed her, pressing upon her instead a need to remember her mother… her family… the world Aboveground.

Her world.

_Alas, my love, you do me wrong,  
__To cast me off discourteously.  
__For I have loved you well and long,  
__Delighting in your company…_

Sometimes Sarah felt as if she was, quite possibly, the only eighteen year old girl in the world who could recite the long ago-penned words to the old romanesca ballad. Her mother had sung it to her when she was nothing but a child, before the days of Karen, when Toby hadn't even been thought of. Even after Linda Williams left, the lure of the stage too much for her glamorous mother, Sarah—gifted with her actress mother's remarkable memory—could recall the lyrics easily.

_Your vows you've broken, like my heart,  
__Oh, why did you so enrapture me?  
__Now I remain in a world apart  
__But my heart remains in captivity…_

The music doll box had been a gift to her from her mother on her eleventh birthday. The small dancer in her lovely gown had been the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen; the mildly impersonal note spoke of her mother's idea that young Sarah might, one day, be just as beautiful. The music that played when she wound it was, of course, _Greensleeves_. As years past and visits with Linda became few and far between, the simple, tinkling tune always brought her mother back to the forefront of her mind.

She hadn't turned the key or played the music box since last time, since the first _incident_. Left out on her desk as a personal shrine to her flighty mother, it served as that—a reminder—and nothing more. Dusted only when she couldn't ignore her stepmother's cries to clean her room and rarely glanced at otherwise, Sarah hadn't heard _Greensleeves_ in three years.

_I have been ready at your hand,  
__To grant whatever you would crave,  
__I have both wagered life and land,  
__Your love and good-will for to have…_

It wasn't hard to remember why. Still, it was as part of now as it ever had been.

As if on cue, the simple recitation of those words running through Sarah's head had the sudden effect of bringing one particular person to her mind. But, for the first time in a long time, for the first time since she actually listened to the precise lyrics as they were written centuries ago, it wasn't her mother's striking beauty that Sarah thought of.

Not at all.

_I have been ready at your hand, to grant whatever you would crave—_

_—I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave…_

Jareth, a know-it-all look in his wide, mocking smile, flashed before her consciousness. Slowing her pace until she was tiptoeing through the last dregs of the junkyard's heaps, Sarah watched as, in her imagination, the Goblin King danced before her eyes. His arms were properly positioned to support an invisible partner and a sudden—and entirely unexplainable, raged her denial—urge to be that partner overwhelmed her.

_If you intend thus to disdain,  
__It does the more enrapture me,  
__And even so, I still remain  
__A—_

Her memory subconsciously failed to provide the next word. Jarred from her daydream, Sarah found herself flushing as she shook her head. Even as she pushed him out of her mind, she would swear that he was smirking victoriously at her.

Feeling a mix of both foolishness and frustration, Sarah realized that, once again, her pace had been reduced to nothing but a resolute standstill. Frowning, her mind blissfully empty now save for the all-consuming drive to _get out_ of this nightmare, she glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes settled on the junkyard and she glared at the seemingly never-ending heaps that stretched behind her.

A sinister place, she'd called it. But it was more than that—it was an enchanted place, too. Jareth hadn't needed a draught-filled peach this time to dance in front of her, seducing her with his music and thoughtless promises. The junkyard itself was playing havoc with her senses. She was only too glad to be finally rid of it.

It was one part of the Underground she wouldn't be sad to forget.

Turning back around, Sarah almost gave a start at what she found in front of her. Only seconds ago she had been faced with another sect of green trees and troublesome hills. The end of the maze, she'd expected, followed by the ornate entrance to that dreaded castle she'd been chasing for so long. This was anything but.

As much as she thought she was done with the labyrinth, the labyrinth, it seemed, was not done with her. The castle was in the same place as it had been, no further, which made her second guess her immediate assumption that this was just _another _trick of the Goblin King's. Surely, if he'd intended on stalling her even more, it would have been no trouble at all to set his castle back another mile?

But the castle remained untouched and unmoved, standing tall and as intimidating as ever. Its surroundings, however, had changed drastically in the precious seconds when she'd had her back turned.

It was almost as if she'd started this bizarre journey all over again. Those same rocky walls that had confronted her all those hours ago, twisting this way and that in a strange, misleading serpentine manner, were before her once again. An addendum to the maze, another trick and trap to confuse and waylay her as she approached Jareth's castle…

There was nothing else she could do. There was no time to find another path and, even if there was, Sarah had no desire to slump back through the damned junkyard again. For a second she entertained the idea of climbing up one of the walls and then jumping across the gaps; as long as she kept the castle in sight, there would be no way that she could get lost or stuck in a dead end.

However, she decided, that would probably be considered cheating and, no matter how desperate she was, she wasn't so desperate that she would sink so low as to cheat. She'd leave that to the Goblin King.

So, praying that she didn't run across any oubliettes filled with smarmy monarchs, Sarah entered the first opening in the walls she found. Anything else, she figured, would be a piece of cake; a second oubliette, like the one she'd left behind earlier, was the worst thing he could throw her way as she made her way through the (hopefully) last leg of her journey.

She was wrong. What Jareth had in mind was far worse than what she'd ever expect of him. Especially since it was the second time he laid this particular trick before her.

Whether she made the decision consciously or not, when Sarah found herself in front of the first split way of this newly discovered maze, she boldly turned right. She didn't need a penny to make her choice; as if there was no choice to be made at all, she turned and continued on her way. Stopping only so often as to stand on the tip of her toes and verify that she was getting closer to the end of the labyrinth, she followed her newfound path.

At the end of a particularly long strait, there was another turn. Again, she turned right. There was no other way to go and, once she navigated the tight corner, she understood why.

Naïve and unsuspecting as she had been all those years ago, Sarah walked right into another of Jareth's traps.

If only this _was_ an oubliette… but no. It wasn't. She was wrong yet, once the initial shock that something was blocking the path laid out in front of her wore off, she wasn't surprised. She'd almost been expecting something like this. True, she'd imagined that the worst he could do was throw another oubliette in her way for good measure, but this… this was just his style.

And, really, it had been some time since she'd last confronted Jareth in his own game. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more Sarah realized that it just wouldn't have been _right_ for her second run to take any less than the whole ten hours—minus a few stolen minutes, she thought to herself spitefully—he'd go 'generously' allotted her.

_Still… this? Even for you, Jareth, that's low…_

Shaking her head, her hands on her hips, Sarah looked at the great glass coffin that blocked her way. It spanned the rocky alcove long ways, not even leaving a half a foot on each side for her to squeeze on through. She didn't even bother glancing behind her or turning around; after all these hours, she knew that there would be something barring her exit, too. Between the first time she found a glass coffin, the vanity she faced and the oubliette she'd been led into, Sarah knew that, if Jareth wanted her to stumble her way past any of his obstacles, he wouldn't leave her any sort of easy escape.

Narrowing her eyes, she took in the eerily familiar sight before her. There was no doubt in her mind that this was the same casket—probably even the same piece of the labyrinth—that she'd found after taking a wrong turn earlier. It had vanished before she'd been able to get a second look at it. Maybe this was where it had vanished to.

As if her eyes were drawn upwards by a magnet, she chanced a glance at the rocky walls that surrounded it before settling her gaze on the wall that towered in front of her in the distance. Only squinting a little, Sarah could make out those same chilling words:

_Here lie Sarah Williams' dreams._

Unlike before, though, the words were not enough to inspire any sort of trepidation or fear in her—rather, the writing on the wall wasn't enough. The first time she'd ever seen them they had been carved crudely right into the rock, acting as no more than a warning; now they were dashed elegantly across the stone, a promise more than anything.

She recognized the script immediately. It was the same flowing letters as the message telling her earlier to turn back. It was _Jareth's_ script.

And that, more than anything, kept her from feeling any fear. Confronted with this glass coffin a second time, she figured that it couldn't be a portent, like she'd understood it to be the first time she saw it, and it probably wasn't a threat. Jareth had had plenty of opportunities to harm her, should he have chosen to do so, but he hadn't. If she was sure of one thing, it was that the only part of her he was currently interested in hurting was her pride.

But it was a message. Eight hours ago she'd run from that message; by the time she finally convinced herself that she had nothing to fear from a simple glass box, the coffin had disappeared before she had the chance to truly understand that message.

She wasn't turning her back on it now.

Though she was, admittedly, slightly hesitant, Sarah approached the coffin. Perhaps _this _was the right decision that Alva had cautioned her to make.

There had been a female corpse—or so she thought—entombed in the glass coffin when she first saw it. Standing along the edge, leaning in daringly to actually see what was inside, she found that she was right.

She also found that, for a few seconds at least, she couldn't breathe.

It was déjà vu all over again—but for another reason entirely. Suddenly, Sarah was seven years old again, attending the funeral of her mother's mother. The familial resemblance between her and the woman in this coffin was obvious but… but that wasn't Gram.

The woman, if Sarah stared long enough, could have been sleeping. Fair, pale skin creased with the tiniest of wrinkles to show that she was middle-aged; thin, colorless lips curved in a content smile, as if she knew pleasant dreams even in death. Rich, chestnut brown hair fanned out beneath her; a simple golden crown, set on top of her head, served as a halo.

It wasn't her grandmother but, as her eyes lingering on the soft features of the woman, Sarah recognized her without knowing how.

_That's not Gram. That's... that's _me_!_

She couldn't believe it but, as soon as she had the thought, she knew it had to be true. She didn't really understand _how_, but, when faced with an image of a much older, apparently _dead_ Sarah Williams, logic didn't really come into play.

Desperate to find some sort of clue to the reason behind this apparition, she tore her gaze from the woman's—she couldn't bring herself to think of it as her own _just in case_—face; instead, with an almost frantic energy, she took in the rest of the sight.

The woman wore the most beautiful gown. It was simple in design, but, even in the dim light of this part of the labyrinth, it seemed to sparkle, emitting a faint, dazzling white glow. It was cut and tailored to suite her perfectly, with the collar plunging far more daringly than Sarah would ever wear. The hem fell just above her slim ankles and she was barefoot.

There was a shadow on the far side of the coffin. Shielding her eyes and peering closely to get a better look, Sarah focused on the woman's left hand. Her stomach flip-flopped at what she saw there: a ring with a diamond as large as pebble was encircling the fourth finger on that hand. But, even worse, was that the hand was resting palm up, as if she'd been holding something that had fallen out of her grasp.

Following the length of her arm and down the woman's side, there was _something _resting alongside her. Sarah swallowed, her mouth suddenly full of excess saliva. There was a half-eaten peach nestled on the coffin's pillow, its juice staining a small circle on the gown.

_A peach. Of course_, she thought weakly, finally taking a step back from the coffin. She wasn't all that sure she wanted to be so daring and curious as to look inside any more.

* * *

Author's Note: _I can't believe this thing finally hit thirty chapters -- or, rather, thirty chapters at all! There's only a handful of chapters left, and I hope you liked this chapter. I've been meaning to put the words to _Greensleeves _in here somewhere for awhile -- since I think they sum up the J/S element quite nicely -- and I'm so glad I got to do that with this chapter. Not to mention the coffin's reappearance ;) _That _was fun._


	31. Part Thirty One: An illusion, shattered

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker_._

* * *

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

She had said that he had no power over her but it did not last.  
Three years later, Sarah finds herself up against Jareth for the second time.  
But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom.

* * *

Part Thirty One: An illusion, shattered

* * *

One step away from the great glass casket turned into two and then three. Her eyes trained untrustingly on the apparition, Sarah didn't stop moving until her back was up against the wall. Like she'd suspected earlier, there was no exit behind her, only a rocky barrier. The path that had led her straight into this trap had simply disappeared.

Or so she assumed; as she still refused to turn around, Sarah couldn't be entirely sure. The tips of her fingers scrabbled against the wall until they were tender and sore from scratching the uneven, craggy surface. Her breath hitched as she realized—again—that there was no way out. The holes, while deep enough to cut her fingertips, were not so deep as to form convenient foot and handholds and she doubted if she'd have enough upper body strength to pull herself up the wall even after a ten hour _nap_. As it was, after spending the last too many hours battling the Goblin King and his labyrinth, she was utterly exhausted—both physically _and_ mentally.

No, regardless of what the old Wiseman once told her, the way forward can't always be the way back. If she really wanted to continue on her path so that she could reach the castle in time, she would actually have to go forward—she would have to confront Jareth's taunting message and his cruel trick.

Her eyes lingered on the coffin, seeing it without really seeing it. She kept her eyes focused on a point lower than the image of the woman kept inside. Slowly, working her nerve back as she advanced on the box, Sarah went forward.

She stopped when there was no more than an inch separating her knees from the base of the coffin. A second appraising look at its width reaffirmed her earlier suspicion: it was absolutely impossible for her to squeeze past it.

Huffing to herself, Sarah turned her sights on the path that lay beyond the queer box. She wasn't all that sure if the view in the distance had changed while she was glaring at the glass tomb, or if the Underground—or a certain king—really loved to play games with her, because the scenery looked different than she remembered it from a few minutes ago.

This path led straight down, no turns at all. If she squinted hard enough, Sarah could see the end approaching. The castle was right there, standing tall and ominous as it waited for her, beckoning her towards it. Though it might have simply been wishful thinking on her part, the gates just before the castle did not seem barred or guarded at all. It was an open invitation—

—_if I can get past this stupid thing first!_

Suddenly this idea of Jareth's to waylay her from even completing this second run seemed even crueler. And, she had to admit, pretty clever. Just the sort of thing she would expect from him, even if she didn't like it.

She didn't like it one bit.

Sarah's instinct just then was to destroy the coffin. It was very hard for her to deny the urge to find some heavy object, a piece of the labyrinth itself maybe, and smash the box; it was made of glass, after all, and glass shattered. Then this foreboding apparition would vanish and she could run the lengths of this strait and appear at the castle. It would only be too easy to defeat the Goblin King after she'd defeated his maze.

It was a childish reaction but there was no doubt that facing the truth of the _incident_ for a second time was causing her to, at times, revert back to the Sarah Williams she had been back then. Fifteen years old and questioning the fairness of it all, she'd entered the Underground a far different person than when she left it. With the exception of a few discreet relapses this time, Sarah was certain she could say the same thing about herself again.

She wondered if those changes would hold if she won. If the labyrinth was nothing more than a forgotten dream, a childish whim, would this Sarah remain?

So taken back by her mental use of the word _if_—_if, _not _when_—she didn't find it in herself to think any longer on that particular line of questioning.

Instead, trying to prove to herself that Jareth's trick made her resolve anything but shaky, she returned her focus to the casket and the dead queen inside. The whole structure sparkled innocently in the dim lighting, seemingly mocking the mortal girl in its presence. The urge to cause the shimmering glass coffin to break into millions of little pieces was even stronger now.

But, as much as she wanted to lash out against an inanimate object, she did not, and not only because there were no heavy stones handy, or old friends to come to her aid. Ludo's ability to call out to rocks would've been useful—Ludo's company more than welcome—but Sarah had neither.

However, there were two things that she _did _have. Her stubbornness, for one, was key; if it wasn't for that one personality trait, she doubted she would have even gotten this far. Of course, she might not have found herself in this predicament –or, at least, she might've had thirteen hours to race the labyrinth rather than ten—but it was too late to dwell on that now.

On the other hand, she also had her newly appreciated ability to rationalize and analyze. Though that too may have cost her more time than she had, it was her propensity to overthink every move that kept her in this game. Through the use of past experience and an overactive suspicion regarding the Goblin King's return volleys, Sarah made it past traps he cunningly laid for her, overcoming each and every riddle, puzzle and obstacle he threw her way.

It wouldn't be force brought on by an immature temper tantrum that helped her by the glass coffin, she decided. It would be logic and her stubborn streak that finished the labyrinth. It had won her her brother back before. Now it would win her her freedom.

_I've done it before_, she reminded herself. _I never thought I could but he made me. Between watching what I said and listening to what I really heard, my first trip here made me what I am today. If I could figure out the riddle of the guards, I can find my way past this._

It had to be simple, the outcome of her failure disastrous. The answer was right there if she needed it—she just needed to calm down first and see it for herself. In the end, she would figure it out logically without taking up too much time.

A piece of cake.

Her dark, underlined eyes were heavy as she lifted them up, an absent-minded finger stroking the underside of her chin gently. She already knew what would happen if she failed to decipher the meaning behind all this: she'd be trapped Underground forever, _his_, with the memory of her forecasted death always lurking in the back of her mind. That, and the death of her dreams—

—_hold on. _My_ dreams?_

The words traced so effortlessly, so elegantly, across the rock—_Here lie Sarah Williams' dreams—_flashed before her eyes.

But those weren't her dreams.

When she was a little girl, around the age of five years old or so, Sarah had dreamed that she would grow up and be the first ruler of the whole world. With her new puppy Merlin at her side, she decided she would be in charge of everybody and they would all have to do everything she said. It would be Christmas every day when she was older and kids could eat candy for dinner whenever they wanted to; dogs, she always added, could sleep in their owner's bed rather than in the dark garage, and there would be a never ending supply of chew toys, especially for fuzzy sheepdog puppies.

When she was a little older, right after Linda Williams left to star in her first play, Sarah had a new dream. No matter what her father thought, or planned out for his only child's future, she would do her best to follow in her mother's footsteps and become an acclaimed actress. The world would be hers, then, and the whole viewing public would fall prey to her undeniable charms. After all, her flair for the dramatics and a near impeccable memory had to be good for something.

When she was thirteen years old, and her life had changed even more drastically, her dreams altered a bit. After her father had met and subsequently married Karen White, Sarah began to dream that she was a princess—a princess who had been left to live with Richard Williams until the time when her true heritage would be known. Somewhere out there, she believed, there was her Prince Charming, someone who would rescue her from a life of her parents' Saturday night dates and a round of endless chores.

Then, when she was fifteen and always left at home to care for Toby, her earlier dream became even more specific. It wasn't a prince who was out there, waiting for her; it was a king—the Goblin King. In her daydreams and in the stories she told her baby brother, this powerful and strikingly handsome king she imagined had fallen in love with her and, in answer to her calls and hoping to earn her affection, vowed that he would do anything for her.

Of course, Sarah thought that she had imagined this grand king and the underground realm that he lorded over. She was wrong, and a careless, foolish wish one night also showed her just how right—and how horribly wrong—her imaginings were. There was a king, the _wicked_ Goblin King, who stole away Toby and led her to race his labyrinth in order to get him back. He wasn't in love with her, she decided, and any offers of her dreams or her wishes were nothing more than a cruel joke.

Now, at eighteen, with the memory of the last _incident_ fresh in her mind, Sarah didn't dream anymore. Or, rather, she did—but the dreams were all nightmares. Once again, the Goblin King had returned to her dreams, twisting them whichever way he pleased until she hardly recognized them anymore.

And now, to see herself aged and dressed in such a way—

—a crown on her head and a wedding ring on her finger—

—Jareth's peach lying at her side—

—that wasn't _her_ dream.

It was _his_.

She made that certain realization with a jolt and there was a second after she had that thought when Sarah didn't know what to think. Was she flattered, or intimidated? Confusion definitely reigned as the idea that Jareth had chosen this particular sight purposefully ran through her mind. As her gaze dropped on the still serene image of the Sarah as Jareth saw her, she wondered—for the first time since she returned Underground—just why, after all these years, the Goblin King had started calling to her, chasing her through her dreams.

She'd never asked him since they met again for the second time and a quiet nagging at the back of her mind asked her if she still wondered. The apparition that had haunted her through this second journey through the labyrinth seemed to provide more than enough of an answer for her.

An answer that Sarah was not willing to confront just yet...

Scoffing to herself, she reached forward and, suddenly finding the great glass coffin more of a nuisance than something sinister, poked one of her sore fingers right along the edge of the casket._ Let him have his fantasies_, she thought, _because_ _they're not my—_

She gasped under her breath, pulling her finger back immediately. Stemming from the exact point where she had carelessly touched it, a long, thin crack appeared, running down the side.

Staring in surprise as the crack lengthened until it went from top to bottom, it took her a few seconds before realization set in. The glass coffin had been more of a fantasy that she'd thought—it was an _illusion_. Despite its seemingly sturdy appearance, it was as flimsy as one of the Goblin King's crystals.

She knew it had to be something simple. She'd just never expected it to be _this _simple.

_If one finger did that… I wonder…_

Without another second to waste, Sarah placed her palm against the smooth glass side and pushed. Her hand went right through, followed by the rest of her. Once she started forward, she didn't stop. Before she knew it, the coffin was behind her and only the straight path to Jareth's castle, seemingly unhindered by further obstacles, lay before her.

As the illusion shattered, destroying the image of the dead Sarah and causing the shards of glass to transform into tiny bits of glitter and fallen magick as she passed right through, she only spared one last glance back.

_I wonder…_

* * *

His gloved fingertip tapped thoughtfully against the backside of his most recent crystal. He cradled it gently in his palm, watching interestedly at the scene as it played out for him. Pupils dilated as his every focus remained on the somewhat distorted image that strained magick can produce, Jareth's lips curved back. Preoccupied, he ran his tongue along the length of his canine tooth; he was enjoying the view.

It had been a stroke of genius on his part to return the glass coffin to a position between the mortal girl and the castle. While her earlier reaction had been worth the effort of creating the illusion of a peaceful, yet obviously dead, Sarah, dressed as her future station would call for, he felt that she hadn't truly grasped the meaning of it earlier. Of course, that was because she hadn't actually seen what the casket had contained; when she'd tried to get a better look at it, he had already dismantled the illusion. It left her with an unsettled feeling as she continued on her journey.

Now, though, he had left the coffin standing until Sarah finally confronted the image. He'd chosen it particularly, a hint of what would come to pass after she gave in to him, and it interested him to see how she would react. With the use of his scrying vessel, he could see the flash of fear when realization hit her.

For all that Sarah prided herself as an actress, her emotions were quite visible when she felt that no one was watching. There was surprise and fear, then resignation and… what else? There was something that he couldn't place. Was that a flicker of hesitation or a hint of acceptance as she looks down at her fate?

Though he would never admit it to anyone else, his fixation with this girl had led him to learn as much about her as he could. She was eleven when she was first brought to his attention and, while he didn't answer her call until she was fifteen, he was curious about this child who so firmly believed in his existence.

When she was young, her imagination pure and innocent, she'd wished to be taken away from it all. As far as he was concerned, that was quite similar to—if not part of—her desire to have her Prince Charming come along and rescue her from her home. But why should Sarah settle for a prince when she had a _king_ at her beck and call?

He'd hoped to show her just how strongly he felt about her, just how much he wanted her as his own, with the glass coffin. Of course, its primary use was to slow her down, stall her further, but there _was_ truth in the vision. He wanted nothing more than to garner the girl as his, to make her his queen. Hopefully now she knew that, too.

With his free hand, Jareth gestured once and the garish, decorated ten hour clock appeared. The minute hand was quickly approaching the hour hand yet… he pursed his lips, somewhat torn. There was no denying that, if Sarah found the key to undoing his illusion, she would have more than enough time to face him—and he wasn't quite sure that he didn't want that. If it came to a stand-off within the depths of his castle, as she no doubt believed it should, she would finally have the chance to see _who _it was she was fighting against all along.

True, it would upset her to find that she'd been eyeing the wrong opponent for all this time but there was nothing for it. This wasn't what was supposed to happen but it did—and it was all Sarah's doing.

When she _did _finally understand that the coffin was nowhere near as real as she imagined—it was, after all, simply an illusion—he found that he was not so much angered as he was pleased at her intuition, her determination. She'd gotten past the final block, the final obstacle in all the labyrinth. There was nothing left for her to do but meet him now.

He waved his hand again; both the crystal and the clock disappeared. Wiping his gloved hands against his breeches, Jareth stood up from his throne. She would be at his gates before he knew it and he needed to get himself ready.

Nodding to himself, the Goblin King vanished from his spot.

These things must be done right, after all.


	32. Part Thirty Two: A final confrontation

Disclaimer: _These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film _Labyrinth_, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, _Sleepwalker_._

* * *

Sleepwalker  
_A place between sleep and awake,  
end of innocence, unending masquerade,  
that's where I'll wait for you…_

She had said that he had no power over her but it did not last.  
Three years later, Sarah finds herself up against Jareth for the second time.  
But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom.

* * *

Part Thirty Two: A final confrontation

* * *

Sarah shook off the discomfort the glass coffin gave her, shook the glitter out of her hair and, as if the strange confrontation had never happened, she set off again.

The thing was this, though: it _had _happened. She could see the seemingly peaceful face of her future self every time she closed her eyes, as if the image was burned on the back of her eyelids; the "feel" of the illusion against the palm of her hand made it clammy. Sarah wanted to pretend it hadn't happened—to see Jareth's intentions splayed out like that made her stomach twist into knots—but it had and she couldn't deny it.

So every step she took down that latest path was hesitant, every glance searching. Sarah had been through too much—_seen_ too much—to know better than to take the emptiness of the path for granted. Sure, it seemed as if she was alone, that the way was clear and the castle near, but she couldn't—she _wouldn't_—allow herself to believe it. Not until she had reached the castle, gone inside, defeated the smarmy Goblin King at his own game and was halfway back Aboveground again.

Still, she had to admit that it was easy to get lulled into a false sense of security when, more than a third of the way towards her destination, nothing had appeared to waylay her yet. Not a dip in the road or a trick, no wrong turns or a strategically placed oubliette. It was actually quite calm and quiet, but not unnaturally so; faint far away sounds of the Goblin Kingdom filtered in, growing louder the closer she got to the castle. Strangely enough, it was nothing that worried her, the humming and buzzing of distant conversations, and Sarah found herself trying to make out some of the words that where almost being whispered around her.

And then, as if unseen participants in the conversation knew they were being listened to, the noise just… _stopped_. Stopped so suddenly that she had to wonder if her tiredness had made her imagine it all in the first place.

That spooked Sarah more than anything else. She didn't mind the muted sounds but absolute silence was terrible. There was a touch of anticipation to the air that was only too familiar. Sarah was reminded of all of those horrible dreams she'd had, with the silence and the openness and the constant need to run. With the absence of any noise at all, she had the strange desire to escape it. It was almost as if, at any moment, she would hear the Goblin King's sultry voice calling her name over and over again.

_Sarah…_

_Sarah…_

_Sarah…_

Well, if he called, she wouldn't be around to hear it. For the first time since she reentered the labyrinth all those hours ago, Sarah Williams began to run.

It made her feel free and she asked herself why she hadn't thought to break into a jog before. It would've saved her time; with less than an hour remaining, she could've used extra time. Chalking it up to exhaustion, suspicion and just plain stupidity, Sarah stopped wondering about the past. She had the future to look toward.

What sort of future would it be?

She kept running, right out of the strait. Reaching the end, the rocky walls on both sides of her just came to a sudden stop, replaced by an even more unwelcome sight. There was a gap in the labyrinth, a football field-sized tract of open land and scattered trees that separated Jareth's addendum from the center of the maze.

The abrupt change in scenery didn't slow her down; in fact, the grassy green knolls and expanse of space only made her run faster. She could feel her frizzy, limp ponytail swaying frantically from her pace, the strands sticking to her damp neck. A cold sweat broke out on her puckered skin. Free from the confines of the maze at last, Sarah was greeted by a brisk breeze that sent chills coursing down her spine.

Or maybe it was the flash of recognition as she remembered the countless dreams and dogged nightmares that sent her running across this same ground. Wary of the sticks and pebbles and plenty of obstacles that littered the grass, Sarah put on a burst of speed until she'd run through an opening in the walls that surrounded the Goblin King's castle.

The set-up and the scene she stumbled upon were so like her first journey Underground that she couldn't help but stop suddenly. Her breathing slowed, her red-rimmed green eyes wide as she took it all in. For the moment, if only for a moment, Sarah managed to forget about the paranoia and the certainty that she was being followed. Her attention was solely occupied by the small encampment just outside the castle. If she'd had second thoughts about following this path to her destination before, they were proven false. She'd gone the right way.

She was right _there_.

Subconsciously ignoring the looming structure that cast a shadow on the grounds, Sarah focused on what was directly in front of her. The barracks and the makeshift huts that belonged to the Goblin Army were set up on the outskirts of the towering castle, just like she remembered. They'd been rebuilt, sturdier than before so that an onslaught of rocks wouldn't present a risk a second time. But—and this was what she found so strange—they were also _empty_.

Sarah wondered if the cadre she left by the Bog of Stench had gotten lost on the way back. She'd believed that, when they were chased away, the wayward soldiers had scampered back to their headquarters but there was no sign of them. It was easier to think they'd gotten lost over thinking that they were preparing to ambush her again. She'd seen the way they tried to pull off a stealth attack. It hadn't been pretty. Their effort and attempt to get to her had stunk almost as bad as the Bog of Eternal Stench itself did.

Her thoughts back on the earlier attack, she frowned. Thinking of the Bog of Stench made her think of Sir Didymus—which, in turn, made her experience those same unsettled, upset feelings again. She still didn't understand why he had ignored her in such a way. Maybe, if there was time after she defeated the labyrinth, she could ask the Goblin King what sort of trick he'd played to make the tiny knight pretend he couldn't see her. That, or visit Sir Didymus and Ambrosius herself…

And that was when, happily anticipating Didymus's reaction at seeing her, Sarah remembered. She would never be able to visit them ever again. There would _never_ be any more time. Once she won—and she was going to win, she told herself confidently—it would be over. She'd go back home, the Underground nothing more than an elaborate dream. And maybe not even that. If Jareth held true to his end of the bargain, she would never remember any of her adventures again. It wouldn't be a dream; it would be as if it had never happened at all.

Never sounded so _final_…

It only hit Sarah at that precise moment just what she was running for. This whole time, the journey had only been about what she was running _from_—until now. When she ultimately beat the Goblin King, that would be it. There would be no more dreams, no more fantasies, no more ducking the amber eyes of a vigilant owl… but there would no more Sir Didymus. No more Ludo. And no more Hoggle.

It had been years since she saw her friends last but, suddenly, she realized she never really said goodbye to them. Like an old memory, they just seemed to fade away from her, just out of reach. One day they stopped appearing in the depths of her vanity's mirror and Sarah, desperate to put the past behind her, stopped looking for them. But now she would never get the chance to say goodbye.

Would they remember her when the Goblin King granted her wish to forget?

So wrapped in her forlorn thoughts, Sarah didn't realize that she'd stepped past and picked her way through the Goblin Army's empty forts until she was standing right before the castle. The sight quite took her breath away. She had spent the last nine and half hours or so trying to get there and, now that she arrived, she was speechless.

It seemed bigger than she remembered, and different. From the many dreams that she was certain took place in the castle and repressed memories from three years ago, Sarah had an idea of what Jareth's castle looked like—and it was nothing at all like this. For some reason, she was convinced it was dark yet crystalline, elaborate and suiting to a royal. If she thought back hard enough, the stone masonry and wide turrets were familiar enough; at the very least, it wasn't so foreboding up close—even if it was awe-inspiring.

Lazy ivy grew at the base from barren dry land; there was no sign of the lush grass and plentiful trees that were planted just outside the walls. There was a hazy aura of Goblin magick surrounding the pale stones that she could just make out. Wondering why it seemed kind of foggy outside—fog was the only excuse the eighteen-year-old Sarah's mortal mind could come up with; fantastical reasons faded long ago—Sarah purposely took a few steps closer to the castle. The closer she got, the bigger it seemed but, since her eyes could only take in so much, it was easier for her to take.

For all she wanted to make a dramatic entrance, Sarah stepped gingerly over the threshold. Like the open and inviting gateway, there was no one there to welcome her or even keep her from just waltzing right inside. She let out the breath she didn't even know she was holding as soon as the rubber sole of her sneaker touched down on the same stone masonry that covered the inside.

Sarah didn't know what she was expecting to find when she finally walked in. Her thoughts still dwelling on the last nightmare she had, she wouldn't have been surprised to find her shirt and jeans transformed into a ball gown, or her hair curled into a ridiculous pouf. But they didn't and, as some of her memories began to resurface, Sarah realized that the inside of the castle looked exactly as it had the last time she set foot inside.

Following the hunch that this part of the labyrinth, at least, hadn't changed, Sarah found her second wind and sprinted towards the stairs at the end of the hall. Whether he had done it purposely or that was just where he kept his timepiece, the elaborate mis-numbered clock was perched at the foot of the first step.

The face read 9:37. There were still twenty-three minutes left.

There was no way she could lose now.

Maybe it was that, maybe it was how certain she felt as spying the clock, which allowed Sarah to slow her pace. When she reached the top of the stairs, she stopped running. She worked hard to keep her breathing even—after all she had done these last nine and a half hours she would be humiliated to be caught panting and out of breathe—and even chanced a small pleased smile.

She wasn't really sure how she remembered, but her feet knew the right path to take. As she went, it finally dawned on Sarah that there was only one place to go. There was only one place, no matter how big the Goblin King's castle was, that would be fitting for this, their final stand-off.

Sarah had to go to the room of stairs. She had to find the Escher Room.

Striding confidently, taking turns and heading to the point where her gut and her instincts told her she would find her adversary, Sarah stopped only once. Though she wasn't entirely sure why it was there—she had a funny feeling goblins were involved somehow—she saw a single, solitary feather laying in the middle of a long, empty hallway. She was bending down, her hand extended, reaching for it before she even noticed she'd stopped.

At first she thought it was an owl feather but, once she had picked it up, she discovered that it wasn't. After having a snowy owl follow her around for these past few years, Sarah was certain she could tell the difference between an owl feather and another sort. The light brown feather she found, unless she was mistaken, was actually a_ chicken_'s feather.

Sarah had to bite back a small, ironic laugh. She'd just spent the last near ten hours worrying and running, trying to outwit the Goblin King and prove to him (and her) that she could do it. That she wasn't afraid of him. That she wasn't a chicken. And now, with the end in sight, she found this.

Her confidence at the victory she already supposed would be hers made her brazen and, with a mischievous twinkle in her dull green eyes, Sarah handled the feather until the tip was clasped gently between her thumb and her forefinger. She let it twirl, imagining what expression would finally cross Jareth's cold, impassive face when she confronted him in a few moments time.

With a quick motion and a satisfied nod, Sarah lifted her hand and tucked the chicken feather into her hair. It caught in her ponytail and there it stayed.

She felt_ invincible_.

Sarah carried that feeling with her as she finished her journey through the castle. It never occurred her to wonder why there was no sign of anybody else in the castle, or just why it looked so different than it had in her dreams. In a way, she was glad that it did. When an opening appeared at the end of the hall she was on, and Sarah recognized it immediately as her final destination, she was grateful. How would she have found the Escher Room in the strange castle she visited while she slept?

There was no hesitation this time. Her watch felt heavy on her wrist, the near silent _tick-tock _counting down the precious few minutes that remained. It only dawned on her then how much her certainty might cost her. She'd been so convinced that he would be inside. What would happen if he wasn't? Eighteen minutes left and counting… what if—

Sarah tried not to think about that as she took a deep breath and entered into the room.

It was just the same as it had been. Steps and stairs and landings all intersecting until the room matched the drawing by M.C. Escher that Sarah had always adored. She'd found it an unbearable reminder after that one night three years ago and, along with her books and her toys and her costumes, it had been packed up and put away when she desperately tried to do her best to forget. It made her stomach lurch and her head spin to see it come to life again.

She suddenly felt weak, as if the events of the last few hours had suddenly reared up and reminded her what she'd gone through. Pushing the feelings aside, Sarah gulped and cast her eye around. She didn't see Jareth but she wasn't ready to admit that she was wrong. Not yet. She still believed he was here.

He _had_ to be.

"Goblin King!" she called at last, trying to sound braver than she felt. And it wasn't that she was really _that_ nervous; it was just that she was so damn tired. Looking wildly around her, Sarah lifted her hand up to cover a huge yawn before her body gave a small, uncontrollable shudder. Despite the anti-climactic gesture, she felt her heart race as she yelled again, "Goblin King!"

There was no one there and then, suddenly, she heard, "Sarah? Are you looking for me?"

There was no doubt that that was Jareth's voice. Just the way he said her name, the velvety manner in which he mockingly caressed each of the two syllables, set her on edge; he sounded just as disinterested as he had when they first met ten hours ago… it was like her arriving was a nuisance rather than the climax of her second run of his labyrinth.

His voice floated up to her and, as if entranced, Sarah walked slowly to the edge. She still had nightmares about the way he walked on the opposite side of the landing she was on, flipping up to meet her before she had the chance to get away—she didn't know what she would do if he frightened her like that again.

But he didn't and Sarah, peering cautiously over the side, saw that he was waiting a few stories below her. His head was cocked to the side, his chin tilted back as he gazed upwards at her. There was an amused smirk quirking his lips, perhaps a hint of surprise that she'd found him, but he said nothing else. He didn't move, either, or make any indication that he was coming up to meet her.

_I'm just going to have to go to him instead, _she thought stubbornly.

She could jump. It would only be so easy to step off the edge and let the wind catch her. She'd done it before, a reckless move; putting Toby before her own safety, the fifteen-year-old Sarah had jumped. When she landed, though, she had found herself in another room with only the Goblin King for company.

He'd almost gotten her that time. She refused to give him that opportunity again. If she had to meet him in order to beat him, Sarah was going to take the stairs like a normal human being.

Knowing that she was wasting precious moments, Sarah managed to go down three separate flights before she landed on a dead end. Jareth, wearing that same fluffy owl coat she remembered from her first adventure—the same owl jacket from the second of Alva's predictions—was tapping the toe of his leather boot against the stair he was standing on. If she didn't know any better, Sarah thought that he might actually be impatiently waiting for her to arrive… like he actually _wanted_ her to get to him.

Which, of course, he did. The Goblin King watched as the girl stubbornly tried to follow the design of the many stairs—and failed. He bit back a groan when she stranded herself on a particular set and, unable to keep his patience from thinning, he waved his hand. In an instant, Sarah had transported from the landing down to his floor. It was a frivolous use of his father's lent power but, he decided, it was worth it. He'd waited three years for this moment. Jareth didn't want to wait any longer.

Not whenSarah was so close...

His action surprised her but she refused to give him the benefit of seeing that surprise. Quickly changing her look of amazement to one of determination, she made sure she was steady on her feet before she hurriedly took a few steps away from him. Being so close to the Goblin King was playing havoc with her. She remembered their conversation in the oubliette and took two more steps away.

Jareth raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He was waiting for her to begin. She was, after all, the challenger.

Sarah opened her mouth to oblige him… before clamping her teeth down and pursing her lips.

This wasn't the time for posturing or drawn out speeches, she realized. It would be pointless to delve into the same monologue she gave the last time she was there—though, Sarah marveled, she could still easily recall every single word—and, besides, she realized that she was better than that. Better than a lot of empty words that, in the end, meant absolutely nothing.

Facing off against the impressive Goblin King, her heart beating so fast that she could barely hear her own thoughts, Sarah reflected back on her meeting with that wizened old elf back in the Forbidden Forest. She couldn't say for sure why Alva popped into her thoughts all of a sudden but she did—and Sarah felt a surge of pride. She'd done it, after all. She'd challenged Jareth, she'd drawn him into another game and she'd won… and she hadn't fallen victim to either of Alva's strange prophecies to do it.

She was her own person. Now she just had to prove it to _him_.

With a simple shake of her head and a steely glint in her tired green eyes, Sarah just said simply, "I win."

That was supposed to be it. She'd beaten his labyrinth for a second time, conquering the Underground as she made her way to the castle that lay in the center. Sarah had made it in far less than the ten hours he had given her and, as all of the heroes and heroines in the stories always did, she confronted the villain and acknowledged her victory.

It was supposed to be over… but why hadn't anything changed?

The last time she defeated his labyrinth all she had had to do was acknowledge her victory—"You have no power over me"—and the effect was instantaneous. The Goblin King had known he was beat. Tossing his crystal into the air, the magick faded and the illusions shattered like glitter falling from the sky. Sarah had closed her eyes instinctively and, when she opened them again, she was home. The clock had chimed midnight—midnight, not thirteen o'clock—and Toby, she checked, was in her parents' room where he belonged.

She was back where _she _belonged—

—but not this time.

What happened?

Loath to meet his gaze, Sarah dropped her chin to her chest, desperate to make sense of the situation. With the quick motion, she felt the chicken feather she'd worn so brazenly in her ponytail slip from its hold, brushing against her neck before it fluttered to the floor. It landed just by her foot. She left it there.

It was the soft tutting sound that the Goblin King let out that drew her attention back up to him. Sarah's head jerked up and then, almost panicked, she looked around. She couldn't find him at first and, her breath catching in her throat, she was afraid for the first time since she called him to her.

He tutted again, an unmistakable chuckle mixed in with the sound. It was coming from up above her. Somehow, in those few seconds when she took her attention off of him, he'd moved to a flight of stairs right above her. It was a startling reminder of who he was and what he was capable of doing. The Escher Room was part of his realm, working under his control.

Sarah didn't like the thought of that.

With a royal wave of his gloved hand, Jareth gestured for her to join him on his level. A touch too stubbornly, he felt, she shook her head, making a great display of keeping her feet planted where they are. Not that that meant anything to him—hadn't his magick shown her enough? He could bring her right up against him if he chose to… he had _all _the power now.

But Jareth, in a rare act of compassion, didn't choose to use magick to bring Sarah to him. Instead, with the air of an adult humoring a child, he took short, light steps towards her. He was graceful and quick. Before she knew it, they were sharing the same staircase.

He was still coming towards her.

"See now, my Sarah, that's where you're wrong," Jareth murmured as he stalked forward, the feathers on his precious coat fluttering with a nonexistent wind. A feeling of dread, of utmost trepidation, formed in the pit of her stomach but, frozen as she suddenly was—frozen out of awe and not her obstinacy—she couldn't move. His mismatched glare caught her eye and she was mesmerized. She barely remembered to _breathe_.

Jareth obviously enjoyed the effect he had on the young woman. A small, victorious smirk tugged at his lips, revealing the point of his canine tooth as it glinted predatorily in the light. This was what it was all about, he knew, the initial hunt and the subsequent chase. She hadn't come to him in all the dreams he gave her but now… now he had her.

And all he had had to do was wait...

Slowly reaching his hand out to her—her eyes widened but she didn't flinch away from his touch—the Goblin King didn't stop his predatory strut until there were mere inches separating them. But, unlike the last occasion when they'd been so close, back in his conjured oubliette, Jareth welcomed the proximity rather than was wary of it. He could touch her now, hold her next to him or push her away should he desire (as if he would desire _that_). He felt the magick welling up deep inside of him; his fingers enshrouded in their leather casing burned to touch her skin.

Who was he to be denied anything he _did_ desire?

"You can't have won, Sarah," he purred, letting his gloved fingertips rest lightly against her gaunt cheek as he finally allowed himself to tell be forthcoming with her. She'd earned that much at least. "You can't have," he said again, savoring this moment, "because the victory has always been mine."

* * *

Author's Note: _I can hardly believe I finally finished this chapter. I've had it partway started and bits and pieces of it planned out for so long now that I feel I've gone over parts of it a hundred times now. I guess that's what happens when writer's block comes in and other inspirations hit and then suddenly almost a year has gone by. I have no excuse either - I knew there were only 2-3 more chapters left and I just didn't work on it. But, after a few gentle nudges and a couple of recent reviews that reminded me that there are people who want to see an ending, I finally buckled down and decided to finish it. So, here we are. I gave you a nice long chapter to make up for the wait, as well as the final confrontation we've all been waiting for. It's not done yet, though, and I'm still deciding between writing one more chapter or two. I'll guess we'll have to see._


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